


No Tenderness

by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Beta Peter, Biting, But nothing rape-y, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Happy Ending, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Sexual Submission, Roughhousing, Sexual Tension, True Mates, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:19:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 58,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee
Summary: What Derek is asking of him is taboo, more so than their relation. They're both wolves; the customs are slightly different there. But an Alpha willingly submitting - needing to submit... if word got out to others, Derek would have Betas and Alphas alike after his throat. Convention hisses that an Alpha can't show this kind of weakness, but... well. Peter's never been conventional.





	1. Just this once

**Author's Note:**

> Hi rare pair, welcome to a non-rape-y story where there should be actual character/relationship growth, a dash of bdsm elements, some hot sex and also feels!
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : This is another merrythoughts & ReallyMissCoffee production. In case you don't know us, just a heads up: this is written first and foremost as an alternating roleplay between us which doesn't necessarily translate smoothly into an easily digestible or traditional fic format. At times we can be pretentious, repetitive and annoyingly wordy, but we're not going to change so please forgo any "constructive criticism" regarding the format. We are choosing to share our work and if you like it, you like it, if not, press the back button and try something else as we have no interest in attempting to fic-ify our stories.
> 
> Derek written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Peter written by ReallyMissCoffee ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com))
> 
> Title taken from the song Hatefuck by The Bravery. ([Lyrics](https://genius.com/The-bravery-hatefuck-lyrics) / [Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGLu_2uGRhk))

Sometimes Derek still wishes his uncle was dead, but most of the times he doesn't (and that is a supremely uncomfortable feeling Derek frequently ignores). Peter is irritating, but not in the same way Scott is. No, unlike Scott McCall, Peter Hale is conniving and untrustworthy. He's self-serving. But Peter is also his only family left and Peter has helped him while providing some guidance amidst the quips.

It's a difficult relationship. Derek can still remember clawing out Peter's throat, anger and bitterness and betrayal howling in his skull. Killing Peter didn't bring back Laura, of course. It didn't change the past. Nothing could. It's still Derek's fault that the rest of his family is dead and Peter had been driven crazy from being burnt alive... Killing Peter hadn't made anything better, but it had to be done. Someone had to pay for Laura's death and Peter had been rabid and needed to be put down.

So, Derek had stepped up. He'd become the Alpha in the process and nothing had been easier since that day. He doesn't like going to his uncle for advice, but there are some matters that Stiles or the rest of his pack aren't equipped to deal with. That's how Derek has found himself in Peter's overly luxurious (at least for Derek's standards) apartment.

Except advice hadn't been what Peter had wanted to give. Peter had wanted to be a sarcastic shit and Derek had felt stretched too thin to tolerate it, so he lashed out. The weird thing is, even though his eyes are glowing red, Derek isn't going all-out. He lets Peter's fist connect with his jaw. He lets his uncle throw him once and break some stupid vase. Derek does fight back, but he's half-hearted about it and isn't getting beaten down what he's used to?

* * *

There's an interesting relationship between Peter and Derek. Granted there's always been one. From long summers spent minding Derek after Paige, to Derek's more formative years where Peter had comfortably enticed him into various acts of mischief, their relationship has never been conventional. Despite how far they've come in the last few months, very little can reframe how much they'd both lost after the fire.

Peter's no longer the same man who mercilessly teased Derek while offering him a port in the storm when Derek had argued with his mother; Derek is no longer the eager, bright-eyed boy who'd excitedly asked to spend time with him. Time has soured and infected and scarred. Peter had killed, and Derek had killed _him_.

It's hard to come back from that.

But Derek also isn't blind. When all else fails, he still knows that Peter is knowledgeable. For all Peter's self-preservation, he's smart and cunning, and much as Derek prefers to attack with fists, sometimes he _needs_ Peter. He just hates asking. So when Derek shows up at Peter's apartment that day, his eyes already slightly-dim, Peter knows that something is different. Like a handler with a creature at the zoo, Peter observes, and then curiously begins to poke, to prod, to use sarcasm and wit to see what the _true_ issue is.

Oh, Derek feeds him a story about old runes in the forest, about a scent he can't explain, but that's not the reason Derek is here. And so Peter pokes and prods until finally Derek snaps, and _then_ he sees the problem for what it is.

The cut of claws raking over his skin stings like Hell, but it could very well be fatal and it isn't. Derek is a full Alpha, and Peter has only just regained his strength. He's quick, but Derek is strong, and yet every blow that lands, while solid, is also weaker, half-hearted. Peter's able to land far more blows, raking bloody lines into Derek's shoulder, his chest, and once even down his back, but Derek's responses seem almost resigned. He must know it's dangerous. Omegas can become Betas, and Betas can become Alphas, and Alphas can become either. Alphas are strong but not invincible.

It's with a growing inkling of understanding that Peter stops picking his attacks like a viper, stops letting Derek blunder as he strikes when it's most convenient. Instead Peter races to the stairs and waits for Derek to follow before doubling back and tackling him down. Theoretically Derek _should_ be able to withstand it, but he crumples instead. Peter lands heavily atop him, and in mere seconds he has Derek face-down on the floor, his cheek only just against the shag carpet and his knees on the hardwood.

They're both breathing hard, both bloody, though Derek's wounds will heal faster. Peter's hands move to Derek's forearms, pinning them down. It should be difficult, but instead it's almost _too_ easy. Peter eyes his nephew with growing understanding.

"Someone isn't feeling it today," he says, more an observation than a taunt. "One might almost think you _want_ to be beaten."

* * *

Derek has always preferred physical altercations to anything verbal. Talking and reasoning aren't his strong suits. He's known this for a very long time. He's far too impulsive, far too prone to want to claw and punch rather than think level-headed. Derek knows his weaknesses. He has many, far too many for his liking. Peter is more like Stiles, quick-witted and eager to formulate plans. Scott, although lead by his heart, isn't as reckless as Derek.

And it's not as if Derek _enjoys_ being reckless. He's trying his best, but the world doesn't seem to think that his best is enough. Derek is just trying to do the right thing, to make the right decision, to protect his pack, to prevent werewolf and hunter mayhem... But it never goes according to any sort of plan. There always seems to be some kink, something that Derek has missed... And Derek is trying to let others help him, but it's difficult.

He's been alone and scared for far too long. Alone and scared and angry and that those attributes don't give well to leadership and friendship.

Peter is used to him, however. Peter knows this song and dance and Peter doesn't back down when Derek instigates the fight. (It's honestly a relief.)

The cuts burn, his muscles ache from the impact, but it's a reminder that he's still alive, that he's apparently the lucky one (because so many of them weren't). He lets Peter get the jump on him and he doesn't flip back up. He lets Peter pin him to the stupid shag carpet. He smells their blood and sweat and the lingering dust particles from the carpet. Derek twists, testing Peter's hold with a snarl, but he doesn't break it.

He should. But he doesn't.

"It's what I'm used to, right?" Derek spits back and it's not really an answer, he knows, but Derek doesn't know what else to say.

* * *

Part of being quick-witted is understanding the way the mind works. Peter's built his empire on knowledge and knowing what works best with whom. Appeal to the suffering of others and he's got Scott around one finger. Appeal to the danger faced to the Beacon Hills police department, and he's got Stiles around another. Stress the risk to Scott or Derek and he's got Isaac, and with Boyd it's as simple as mentioning that Derek has already approved a plan. Derek is simultaneously the most complicated and the easiest. Bluntly claim he can't do something and he'll race headlong into danger, and stress the risk to his Betas and he'll do the same. However, Derek's momentum lasts only as long as his anger does. Once that's gone...

Well. Once that's gone he gets to see his nephew like this, snarling, snapping, bucking under him, but half-hearted at best. It's a performance, not a true effort. Peter can feel the fight bleeding from Derek's muscles, can feel the _waves_ of overwhelming frustration. The self-loathing is so thick that Peter can practically taste it, and while he's seen Derek like this before, it's rarely been around him. It's rarely been _purposeful_ , and Peter suddenly knows that that's what this is. Derek's feeling overwhelmed and frustrated and likely _not enough_ , and he'd come to Peter. A bid for help? A link to his past? Likely both, but Peter knows his nephew, even this iteration of him, as twisted as Peter is.

"No one told you the perils of leadership," Peter muses lowly, his voice almost conversational despite the barb to his words. "Laura was the one prepared to follow in Talia's footsteps. There's a comfort to be found in following orders. It's simple. But _giving_ them, especially when they only seem to lead to disaster... it might make one wish for simpler times."

Peter wets his lips, tasting blood, and his muscles burn with the effort of keeping Derek pinned. "Particularly when it's just one thing after another. You never get a break, never get the chance to relax." Peter goes quiet, musing. He looks Derek over slowly. Then an idea comes to him and, without raising his voice, he digs his claws in against Derek's forearms just enough to break the skin.

"Stop fighting me."

* * *

Derek doesn't know what he needs or wants right now. As per usual, it's easier to lash out, to fight and move forward. To get back up after being hit down... It's also what he's used to. It's what's expected of him. Derek doesn't get to retreat. Derek doesn't get to leave. Derek is the Alpha, so it's his responsibility. He has Betas to protect. Friends? Maybe friends, too.

It had been better off on his own. Coming back to Beacon Hills... It's been complicated. He'd helped stop the crazed part of the Argents. Stopped a rabid uncle. Saved a few lives, sure... but at what cost? Derek is wondering just how much more he has left to give. How much more does he have to bleed out before it will be enough? He's pretty sure there will never be an end. His sins can't be paid by a blood debt. There's too many charred bodies that are directly his fault and every time he sees Peter it's another reminder of what his youthful indiscretion had brought.

When Peter speaks, the tone is casual but the words are pointedly _not._ Even so, Peter's words are true. He hadn't been thinking when he'd killed Peter. He hadn't been concerned with the consequences of becoming the Alpha. Simpler times... Now there's a concept Derek doesn't want to think about, because simpler times had been before things got complicated with Paige, happy and naive, blabbing to Peter about his feelings and hopes...

Still, Derek resists, but it's muted. He knows the role he's supposed to play. He's supposed to fight Peter, after all. It's what they do. But it becomes more difficult to keep it up when Peter mentions how he never gets a break, how he's never able to relax. Derek clenches his jaw, riddled with indecision at this moment.

And then it becomes just a little easier when Peter's claws break the skin along his arm, blips of pain spiking. And it sounds like Peter is giving him an order, but what is his half-hearted fighting even accomplishing? Nothing, that's what.

So Derek stops. His fingers uncurl from fists and his palms lie flat against the carpet. He takes a deeper breath, his body still primed to attack if needed, but the desire is slowly fading. There's an odd sort of comfort to giving in, to the floor securely beneath him and Peter's familiar bulk atop of him. Derek says nothing. This is... new between them.

* * *

Peter isn't sure what he's expecting once he gives his order. For Derek to lash out, perhaps, to feel the sting of his claws across an arm, to be thrown off of Derek's back to land on the floor. But there's a niggling suspicion in Peter's mind as he keeps his nephew pinned and the more he waits and watches, the greater that suspicion becomes. As instead of snarling and throwing Peter off, Derek stays tellingly quiet. There's a rigid tension under him, Derek's forearms flexing against Peter's hands like he's wracked with indecision.

Then, much to Peter's mutual surprise and satisfaction, some of the tension drains out of Derek's body. He watches, hardly believing it when Derek's hands press flat to the carpet, and he feels the breath that Derek takes as he relaxes slightly. Oh, he's not stupid enough to trust immediately; Peter can feel Derek's muscles primed to react should Peter's claws go for his throat. But despite how easy it would be like this, the thought leaves an unpleasant taste on the back of Peter's tongue. He doesn't lash out. He doesn't take the shot. Instead he watches his nephew closely and quietly marvels over being right.

Derek hadn't come here to fight. He'd come here to do the opposite. Peter watches him for a long moment. Then, finally, he leans in enough to bring his lips level with Derek's ear. "Good."

What Derek is asking of him is taboo, more so than their relation. They're both wolves; the customs are slightly different there. But an Alpha willingly submitting - _needing_ to submit... if word got out to others, Derek would have Betas and Alphas alike after his throat. Convention hisses that an Alpha can't show this kind of weakness, but... well. Peter's never been conventional.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting this." Peter shifts, keeping Derek's arms pinned as he brings his chin down to press against Derek's neck. Any other Alpha would snarl and lash out at another being so close to his throat, but Peter suspects otherwise here. Derek _needs_. "Not that I'm surprised, or about to tell anyone. Tell me: did you come here for the fight, or did you intend this from the start?"

Peter scents the air, but the scent of blood is still too strong to smell much else. On a whim, he frees one of his hands from Derek's arm and instead threads his fingers through Derek's hair. He takes a moment to tighten his hold, appreciating the softness. Then he grips, _hard_.

* * *

Derek honestly doesn't know what Peter is planning or hoping to accomplish in this. Peter's up to something. His uncle always is. Peter is never the type to do or say something without reason, without some motive. Derek is just too damn exhausted to try and wrack his brain for the possibilities. Figuring out Peter's intentions is another activity Derek isn't especially great at either (not that he _wants_ to be).

Physically, they're both stronger and larger than they had been years ago, back when Peter was considered to be his best friend. Of course, they have fought since then. In the hospital. Outside the burnt Hale house. Derek is familiar with Peter with his tactics, but Derek is allowing this to occur. And his wolf isn't thrilled by it, his instincts growl softly to _do_ something, to change from this position of weakness and wrest back the upper hand because this is _wrong_.

Derek could. He's the Alpha. he's stronger than Peter and Peter isn't operating at 100% from his little come-back-from-the-dead gig anyway.

But whatever exhausted and twisted drive that exists within him now, it overpowers the instincts. For now. Derek remains still other than the steady rise and fall of his chest. Peter leans in, his mouth nearly touching his ear as he whispers one word: _good._

It's barely anything, but it feels like something. It matters for some reason.

Derek still doesn't know what this is. He doesn't know where this is going. He's almost afraid to ask. Peter shifts against him, his chin coming to rest along his neck. He's used to the physicality of fighting. He's sparred with Scott and his Betas before. He's sparred with Peter too, but this isn't their usual fighting. This is Peter getting close to his neck. This is reckless and inviting trouble, but still, Derek doesn't dare move. If he moves he admits to something happening.

Instead, Peter asks him a question. And then smells the air. Derek is momentarily confused by what Peter could be smelling for and then a hand comes to his head and fingers curl into the longer strands at the top. A beat later, Derek is opening his mouth to respond, but then Peter grips harder and a hiss comes out instead. First there is a flare of indignation - for how dare Peter grab him like some misbehaving puppy - but then there's a secondary sensation of heat, of a thrill, and that has Derek confused.

"I don't know what... what you're talking about," Derek finally grits out.

* * *

Gone are the days of fond summers, watching Derek splash about in the lake in the Preserve, of teaching Derek proper fighting stances and tricking him into tripping over his own feet. Neither of them are those men anymore. Instead, they are twisted versions of themselves, darker, rougher, barely-recognizable in certain cases. But despite the differences, Peter still knows his nephew.

Perhaps his mind had been shattered but he can still remember Derek speaking to him in the coma. He can remember aching to respond despite the dreamlike state of non-existence. Peter is perhaps the one who knows him best of all, all things considered. Perhaps even more than Derek does. For he _also_ remembers how desperate Derek had been to have an Alpha to lead him once Laura had died. He'd followed Peter without much question, if any, even _knowing_.

So when Peter grips and yanks and hears that hiss, Peter scents the air again on a whim. It takes a moment for the shift in Derek's scent to register for him, but when it does, Peter has his answer. This isn't just the need to be directed, then. Peter can't say he's complaining.

But Derek seems confused, as his words don't register as a lie. Peter regards his nephew for a moment, then understands. He contemplates his next move, aware that one wrong action could decimate this house of cards. But in the end, Derek rarely responds to something that isn't blatant. Peter looks at him again, then he tightens his hold in Derek's hair and shoves his hand forward, pressing Derek's cheek down against the carpet and holding it there, his neck ever-so-slightly bared and his position more instinctively submissive.

"You really don't, do you? No matter. Luckily, I do."

Peter lets that statement hang just for a moment, and then he leans down. His cheek brushes against the back of Derek's neck - less dangerous, less of a challenge - and before Derek can think to struggle, Peter kisses a spot on his nape, then drags his teeth over it and bites down, deciding to bypass Derek's reason and go right to his instincts.

* * *

Derek isn't one to reminisce -- at least not when he can help it. The thing is, there _are_ a lot of good memories, memories of a family and support, of knowing he was loved unconditionally, that he was safe, that he could screw up and still be accepted. But after Kate, after the fire, there had been no one. Peter had been there physically - scarred and disfigured - but unable to provide any answers or insight. He remembers begging his uncle to say something - to say anything - to show any signs... And the nurses always looked at him with a pity that made Derek want to snarl at.

Maybe his answer isn't good enough, because, for whatever reason, Peter shoves his head down and Derek's jaw clenches. Like this, his neck is more exposed and the carpet - soft - is a mockery against his face. Derek grunts, his hands clenching tighter into fists, knuckles white. Even now, Derek knows he could escape. He could put a stop to this - and he still should - but Derek doesn't. He's aware of the danger, that Peter could possibly attack and go for his throat, but Derek doesn't think that that's going to happen. It doesn't seem like Peter's style.

Derek doesn't know what to think about Peter's response. He _should_ ask for clarification, but Derek doesn't know if he even wants to know. Derek doesn't close his eyes. He doesn't struggle. He focuses on the broken vase across the room, the jagged pieces littering the floor and he wonders if they'll all end up like that.

He doesn't get to wonder for long because Peter's mouth grazes across the back of his neck.

Peter just kissed him. Before Derek can even work out how he feels about that, teeth then skim over the area which has goosebumps popping up on Derek's skin.

And then Peter, his uncle, bites the back of his neck and it's a confusing rush of incredulity, indignity, and heat that floods through Derek as he gasps. It's not fangs, so Peter's teeth don't break the skin. It still smarts, however. Still burns. Derek likes biting during sex. He bites others more than _he_ has ever been bitten though and he's never allowed someone to bite his neck.

It's wrong on so many levels that _Peter_ is doing this now. It's not that it's _Peter_ (guy's always been out there) as much as a Beta pinning _him_ down. Peter is weaker than him. Peter is smarmy. Peter killed Laura. Derek shouldn't be letting this happen. Peter should be the enemy.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Derek hisses out and it's obvious that he isn't aware how his body is responding to the stimulus because Derek would be utterly horrified if that was the case.

* * *

Peter could have simply reached a hand under his nephew's slightly-raised hips and pressed a hand between his legs. It would have certainly outlined the shift in the scent to Derek's perception, but it _also_ would have likely earned him the sudden slash of claws over his throat and Peter's had that happen one too many times in his life already. He feels no regret when he thinks about allowing this.

Derek might be his nephew but he's also a grown man and there are certain needs that those in Derek's immediate pack can't fulfill for him. He and Derek have the benefit of a long history and Peter has been reading this boy since he'd been a child. He can sense how despondent Derek is. That he's stopped fighting back is proof enough. But still... it isn't a good idea to poke a wolf with a stick when it's injured. Peter isn't about to tiptoe around this when Derek _could_ revert back any moment.

So he bites. He bites and he tastes salt and blood under his tongue and he _feels_ Derek's gasp and the way his muscles go rigid under Peter's body. Something close to power sings in Peter's veins; biting an Alpha like this is unheard of. It's grounds for slaughter. So, of course, he revels in each moment of it, his fingers still tangled in Derek's hair and his claws digging deeper into his forearm. And through it all Peter's suspicions are confirmed when he breathes in again.

He doubts Derek understands; he seems singularly focused on Peter's teeth. Yet despite his lack of understanding, Peter is quite aware of the way Derek's body is moving. The way Derek's muscles have begun to relax, the way the scent of arousal has suddenly spiked in the air, the way Derek's letting himself go more pliant under Peter, the way he's arched his neck _just_ enough... Peter no longer has to wonder if he's correct. He knows. So he bites harder, exhaling hotly against Derek's skin as he shoves with his hands, keeping Derek pinned. He slowly adjusts his position, straddling Derek's lower back, but Derek's demand does give him a slight pause. Oh, how to explain...

"Giving you what you came here for," Peter says simply once he drags his teeth back, though his lips don't move away from Derek's nape. "Or what you _need_ , at least. You couldn't have asked any of the others; they wouldn't have understood."

Not that Derek does. There are any number of ways that Peter _could_ draw Derek's attention to the obvious, but he picks the quickest route. He bites the back of Derek's neck again with a low growl and forces his hips hard against Derek's ass, pressing Derek's front fully to the floor so that he can feel his not-so-little problem.

* * *

He asks, but Derek knows he doesn't want to hear the answer. There's no way this can be good. Nothing in Derek's life has really turned out good, so why would Peter fucking around with him be the exception?

Peter _has_ to be fucking around with him. This has to be a joke of some kind. A prank. Peter is a manipulative dick, but he usually doesn't sink this low. Peter gets into trouble out of boredom or for personal gain (and usually it's a mix). Frankly, Derek doesn't even want to think what Peter _could_ be getting out of this, how this could be twisted to screw him over.

And Derek knows the expectations and role of an Alpha. This is practically blasphemous. Scandalous too. Laura would have been shocked and incredulous. Shame worms its way under Derek's skin, but it's vastly overpowered by the sting at his nape from his uncle's teeth and dampened by the weight of Peter atop him and the tightness of the grip in Derek's hair.

Peter answers his question. It's not exactly a straightforward response. His uncle's lips move against his neck, and Derek forces himself to breath slower, to try and wrest back control over his racing pulse. What he came here for? What he _needs?_ The picture is still hazy to Derek. If he broke away now, he could shrug this off, he could excuse his behavior. He should. He should put a stop to this, reassert his dominance, put Peter back in his place...

But then Peter bites his neck again and Peter's hips shove forward against his ass and it has Derek's own body pressing against the floor. It's then Derek realizes he's at least half-hard from this. Panic surges through Derek and he's so close to scrambling and reacting to push Peter off. He can see himself doing it. It's what's expected of him. He should do it. Instead, Derek makes a decision and rubs his ass against Peter's crotch. He flexes to test Peter's grip.

"Am I going to regret doing this with you?" Derek asks. "You going to hold this over my head? Blackmail?"

* * *

Peter is expecting Derek to lash out. If he does, if he needs to suddenly scramble back to avoid Derek's claws, Peter will understand. It'll be a shame as the more he considers this idea, the better it sounds to him, but alas, Derek can be rather stubborn and quick to anger and panic. This certainly won't help given the risk behind it, but Peter's attention has narrowed in on what _could_ be. He feels the tension in his jaw from his bite, feels the warmth of Derek's body, feels the power behind it, bowing to him, and it's all he can do to keep focused enough to possibly save his own life.

His little trick works, though. Pressing Derek's hips to the floor, letting him _feel_ how hard he is from this is a risk, and Peter feels Derek's body tense so quickly that his grip on Derek's hair loosens just for a moment. Caution plays around Peter's mind, a wariness as he waits for the response. Fight or flight, though he hopes it'll be neither. And when Derek does react, when his muscles do tense to move, it is _not_ in the way that Peter had been expecting.

He feels Derek's ass press back against him, rubbing blatantly against where he's growing hard in his jeans. Peter's exhale is sharp, slightly punched-out against Derek's nape as the meaning registers because the _meaning_ is very telling. Peter's eyes glint blue in a quick spark of something akin to triumph. He'd scented Derek's panic, had heard the racing of his pulse, but Derek hadn't thrown him off. Peter releases Derek's nape, his tongue making a quick pass over Derek's skin, slower and blatant, and he hums a low note of thoughtful satisfaction.

"You likely regret breathing some days; of course you'll regret doing this with me. But really, Derek, don't be ridiculous. _Blackmail?_ " Peter's snort is soft but there's truth in it.

He winds his fingers harder in Derek's hair and gives it a slow, hard tug as he presses down with his hips, letting Derek feel the growing hardness against his ass.

"Being Alpha is endless control. Every Alpha has their solution for the stress. Some run, some spark confrontation, or kill. Some fuck. I would imagine some submit. It's not like you could have asked your other Betas to do this. They'd never respect you after. But I know you."

Finally, Peter frees Derek's arm, leaving bloodied claw prints behind in the bared flesh. He shifts his weight to his other elbow, hand still buried in Derek's hair, and then he reaches down and under Derek. There's no hesitation as he cups his clawed hand to the front of Derek's jeans, letting him feel the pinpricks along his thighs but not coming close to the hardness under his hand with them. Peter rubs, blatantly.

"I know how helplessly tangled that mind of yours gets. I know how to _untangle_ it for you. No blackmail, Derek. Just sex. Deal?"

* * *

Derek's own response is irritating. He knows what he should do. He does. He knows this is one of those bad mistakes because Derek has always been _really_ _good_ at making them. Even if Peter has been behaving and he's not interested in clawing out his throat to become the Alpha again, it's still a mistake. If word got out... It'd be disastrous. And the thing is, in Derek's mind who Peter _is_ (Laura's killer) and a Beta is worse than the fact that Peter also his _uncle_. Maybe it's just proof that Derek's life is in such shambles, that he's this messed up, that he doesn't feel that disgusted by the whole incest bit (not that it's the same in werewolf culture).

When he pushes back, Derek isn't exactly surprised to feel the outline of Peter's not-soft dick. It should freak him out. It should, but it doesn't. It doesn't cause Derek to run for the hills. Derek is used to causing arousal. He's not egotistical about it, it's just been proven enough times to him. But Derek doesn't think that it's his looks that are exactly turning on his uncle. No. It has to be the power too. The fact that Peter is on top and Derek is allowing it.

The broken pieces of the vase remain, unmoving and permanent on the floor. When Peter's teeth move away from his neck, Derek can feel his skin already mending itself. Derek has felt indestructible for too long, but it's a farce. He still bleeds. Every bullet, every blade, they all hurt. He can still die. No one lives forever. He wonders if Peter is more afraid of dying now. He's never talked about it, never asked. Seeking counsel, seeking advice from Peter... It's difficult to do now. After everything and Derek has no idea how to go about fixing any of it.

But he's here now, isn't he? Derek had sought Peter out, had driven to his uncle's apartment and instigated a fight that he'd had no intention of winning. It's a mess. Hearing Peter's answer doesn't bring any clarity. Regret is an old friend of Derek's and is really the only thing that hasn't abandoned him. Peter yanks his hair in a slow tug before grinding back against Derek's ass. Now that Derek is aware that he's aroused, it's easier to be aware of his own responses, like how his own body seems to _like_ the fact that Peter is aroused.

Being desired... It's undoubtedly familiar to Derek. Safe. Peter likens _this_ to Derek attempting to find a solution to stress. Submitting. The very word causes his metaphorical hackles to rise. Derek can't say it's wrong nor is the fact that he couldn't have asked anyone else to do this. He hadn't even _asked_ Peter to do this. Peter had just inferred. (Correctly. Bastard.)

Claws leave his arm and Derek knows he's been bleeding. He can smell his own blood amidst the arousal and sweat. Peter shifts and Derek doesn't fight. He wouldn't say he's docile, but he's compliant and Derek doesn't jerk or make to stop his uncle's hand as it slides underneath him. A warm palm rubs against his trapped dick and he feels the threat of claws against his thigh -- a reminder of the threat that's still present. Derek feels a groan wanting to escape but he doesn't let it.

And right now Peter sounds like the snake tempting Eve. _'I know how helplessly tangled that mind of yours gets. I know how to **untangle** it for you.' _

Such a sweet promise, from a man who shouldn't be trusted. "Just this once," Derek says lowly. "Deal."

* * *

Derek doesn't stop him. Overwhelming consent is usually preferable but Peter's not going to be picky in this situation. Sometimes consent is better if he needs to work for it anyway, and he's looked past it once or twice. Though admittedly those had been in life-or-death situations. He hadn't wished Lydia any true harm; he'd just seen an opportunity and taken it, just like he had with Scott.

But Derek... Derek is different. They have history, and even though Derek doesn't trust him, Peter holds some respect for what they'd had and who they'd been. He'll push and entice and coerce, but if Derek says no or pushes him away, he'll let it go. At least... for now. Until Derek comes back, and Peter knows that he will if he happens to leave.

Derek doesn't leave. He doesn't do more than twitch when Peter's hand cups him through his jeans but Peter hadn't been expecting him to. That Derek isn't whirling around and going for his throat is as good as a choked moan or babbling assent. Peter rubs his thumb over the growing hardness, the sound of his claw dragging over the denim loud on the air. Going once... going twice...

' _Just this once. Deal_.'

Sold.

"Excellent choice," Peter says smoothly, almost proud.

Then his thumb flicks up and he hooks his claw in Derek's zipper, pulling it down in one pass. He doesn't claw his belt open, doesn't even undo it. Instead, Peter slides his hand in and presses it to the front of Derek's boxers. He finally retracts his bloodied claws so that he can get a better feel for parts left unseen. Derek's certainly not lacking. It's a shame he's so suspicious; Peter's relatively certain he could have a fair few lining up to share his bed were he so inclined. But considering his sexual history, caution likely makes sense. Derek's not known for his good decisions.

Peter chooses not to think about what that means about him. He never claimed this to be a _good_ idea, just the one that Derek needs.

"Reach up with both arms and dig your claws into the carpet. Don't move them until I tell you to," Peter instructs, rubbing his palm in a slow, easy stroke up and down Derek's clothed cock. He tightens his grip in Derek's hair. "Now."

As he speaks, he leans in again, rolling his hips slowly against Derek's ass, but his real goal is to nip at the back of Derek's shirt. Peter tastes the bloodied fabric, then simply bites through it, baring more of Derek's neck and shoulder to his teeth. It's a new opportunity he takes full advantage of, biting with blunted human teeth at the meat of Derek's shoulder.

* * *

Minutes ago they were fighting. Throwing each other, breaking things, snarling with their claws and fangs out. Derek had shrugged off his leather jacket upon Peter opening the door, but he hadn't taken off his shoes. Pinned on Peter's stupid shag carpet now, Derek briefly thinks about his shoes for some reason. Maybe because it's such a trivial normal matter and _nothing else_ about their current situation is trivial or normal.

He's got Peter on top of him, one of his uncle's hands slipped underneath and feeling up the bulge in his jeans while the other grips tightly in his hair. It's all kinds of fucked up, to be allowing and letting and wanting...

 

Wanting _what_ , exactly? Derek could find anyone for a quick fuck. It would be no struggle. This isn't about sex. While an orgasm would undoubtedly feel great, it's not on the forefront of Derek's mind - but what is?

Derek isn't at all concerned about Peter forcing him. Peter _can't,_ and Peter may be creepy at times, but Peter is no rapist. Derek can stop this whenever he wants to - whenever he needs to. But what Derek is afraid of is _himself._ How far will this go? What will he allow? What does he want? Peter may be shifting into a role of dominance, but it's Derek consenting to it.

Peter sounds almost pleased and strangely enough, Derek feels his stomach tighten in some sort of anticipatory response. Peter wastes no time in dragging down Derek's zipper and working his hand in. This time Derek can't help the lower groan that slips out with Peter's hand touching him, only the one thin barrier of his boxers remaining. Derek has no time to really enjoy the sensation because Peter is giving him an order? That's what it sounds like at least.

Derek doesn't immediately comply but when the grip to his hair tightens and the ' _now_ ' comes, Derek does. He reaches up and lets his claws extend and Derek digs them into the stupid carpet. As he does, Peter grinds against his ass and Derek feels a conflicted pang of arousal. Peter then decides to go back to the biting thing. Derek hisses, his eyes flashing red at the sting. He still focuses on the broken pieces of the vase, the disaster almost a grounding point for him now.

"You have a biting kink, Uncle Peter?" Derek growls out.

* * *

Peter could do this without the sex. He could, but he's not going to. Beyond how long it's been for himself and beyond how many lines they're currently crossing, the sex is going to serve as a buffer for what Derek really needs. For what Peter really craves. Submission, and dominance. Derek needs to let go, and Peter needs to feel the sands of control cupped in his palm before they once again slide between his fingers. Before the fire, he'd been ambitious. He'd been cunning and easygoing, with rakish smiles and his own games that he'd played to push the boundaries. He'd been content in his place, though he'd often envied Talia for her status, but it hadn't been a burning need.

Then the need had been burned into him, imprinting under his skin the way the wounds had. Locked in his own mind, forced into weakness and vulnerability, his mind had broken against the idea of not being in control of himself. Becoming an Alpha, guarding himself, letting his burned instincts run wild had been the only thing he could think of. It had gone beyond Laura, beyond Derek, beyond anything but himself. So he doesn't fault Derek's actions. He doesn't particularly enjoy the memory, but with his feet firmly planted on the ground and his revenge finished, he understands why Derek had done it.

Peter doesn't want to take Derek's Alpha-status away from him. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want it in a general sense even now. This is an unexpected substitute. Derek might be the one who needs this the most (and Peter has enough affinity for his nephew even now, even if Derek doesn't believe him) but Peter's certainly not going to downplay his own benefits.

So he bites and he _feels_ Derek's eyes flare red, feels the instinct coring him but he doesn't react the way Derek's other Betas would. Instead he only growls, biting harder, and he lets his claws scratch ever so slightly at Derek's scalp. Peter breathes in sharply through his nose, scenting the blood and sweat and adrenaline, scenting their mixed arousal, and the echo of Derek's groan rings in his ears.

Derek's teasing little quip makes Peter huff a small breath of a laugh against Derek's shoulder. He bites even harder yet, then releases his hold, scraping his teeth over Derek's skin to press once more against the side of his neck. Peter doesn't bite, merely scents the air, clearly pleased with himself.

"Don't you? One could argue it's base instinct."

Peter's fingers curl through Derek's hair then, just once, almost approving. Derek _had_ gotten into position, after all. Peter presses what could be a mockery of a kiss to the healing bite on Derek's shoulder. Then he finally releases his grip in Derek's hair, though with a shove that indicates Derek should keep his head down. Peter's hand skates down, first along Derek's back, then finally underneath him. His claws trail over Derek's bloody shirt and, seeing as it's already ruined, Peter digs his claws in just enough to rip it down the front, from throat to waist, shredding it and making it that much easier to get his hands on Derek's skin.

"Lift your hips and brace yourself. I want you to stay in this position unless I say otherwise."

* * *

Derek's nails dig into the ridiculous carpet. Even though he's laying down on the floor, Peter on top of him, Peter's hand underneath and on him, Derek still feels a little ungrounded. This whole situation seems too absurd to be happening. He's hard. Peter is hard. Peter's mouth and teeth have been on him. His instincts are more than unhappy, but right now Derek just _wants_ this. Sure, it's ill-advised, it's something he'll definitely regret, but Derek knows he doesn't want to fight; he _needs_ something and Peter seems all too willing to step up and offer.

While growing up, Peter had always been willing and available to help him... Old habits must die hard because Derek's here now (not that he hasn't visited Peter before for actual advice). And Derek knows without a doubt that Peter is right. Derek couldn't ask or expect any of his pack to be able to do this. Derek hadn't even been able to voice what he'd needed, but Peter knows him and that should bother Derek but right now it's just helpful.

His question has Peter laughing softly and then biting harder. When the bite relents and teeth simply graze over his skin, Derek's body gives the smallest of shudders. He doesn't answer the question. His responses have been answer enough. Derek also likes the tension of Peter's fingers curling in his hair tighter but that sensation ceases when Peter's fingers leave and then Derek's head is shoved down against the carpet. Irritation spikes, but Derek merely clenches his jaw and remains still.

Peter's wandering hand incites and Derek knows it should be far stranger to have his uncle be feeling him up, but the familiarity is still there and Peter has dulled the roar inside his head. When that hand reaches around underneath, Derek just grunts at his shirt being clawed open. It had already been wrecked from their earlier altercation.

When new instructions come, Derek doesn't rush to comply. He considers not listening, but what would that really get him? Peter is doing him a favor. After a few seconds, Derek's hips do lift.

"How far do you plan on this going?" Peter had said sex, but that could mean many different things.

* * *

Every moment of this is one that Derek can stop. Peter's voice is firm but not resolute because a forceful suggestion being broken is much better for pride than an order being broken. Much as this fills him with a quiet thread of power, he's not unaware of the status between them. Everything that Derek does is because he's allowed it. So when Derek doesn't immediately comply, Peter merely waits, curious, his brows pinching slightly but he doesn't press or push. He waits, watching, and when Derek's hips finally lift from the floor, pulling the muscles in his abdomen pleasantly taut, Peter smiles.

"As far as I think you need it to," he answers when Derek asks his question. Peter's hand cups a little harder, stroking the outline of Derek's cockhead through the boxers with the palm of his hand. It's a slow, near-massage, but he's never had his nephew quite like this before. Every reaction is new, muted as it is. Peter isn't about to rush into something that might get his throat slashed. Instead he wets his lips and bends down, lapping a trace of blood from the back of Derek's shoulder. Peter hadn't bitten him to bleed, but they hadn't been careful with their claws. The wounds may be healed (on Derek) but the blood remains.

"I could fuck you and be done with it, but I don't think that's what you want, or what you need. Sex is secondary or else you wouldn't have come to _me_. Flattered as I am, I'm not delusional," Peter says calmly against Derek's shoulder. He strokes his free hand down Derek's abdomen, enjoying the clench of muscle, the fact that Derek's lifted hips make him need to strain even more. The tip of one of Peter's claws scrapes over a nipple before he moves his hand up to skim briefly over Derek's throat. One curl of his claws and he could rip out Derek's throat, but Peter simply touches and moves on (there's no point in antagonizing Derek intentionally when his fuse is this short).

Instead he moves his hand back, trailing it up and over Derek's shoulder. The shirt is already ruined and so he feels no shame as he hooks his claw under the back of it and tears it the rest of the way, both halves falling down to hang around Derek's arms.

Peter's gaze sweeps over Derek's back, bloodied but not injured. His focus falls on the tattoo burned into Derek's back and, after a moment of deliberation, he leans down and nips at the skin of each spiral, then licks, as if to soothe it.

"Is there anything you refuse to do?"

* * *

God, it's another one of those questions that Derek probably doesn't want to hear the answer to. But it needs to be asked because Derek has no idea what to expect _here._ And Peter's answer is vague, but the annoyed growl that starts to come out gets clipped when Peter's hand presses in harder and rubs up Derek's erection slowly. Derek breathes in a measured breath, trying to remain in control of his body. It's hardly a strain to keep his hips up, but the task still has him utilizing muscles and is grounding.

Things get a little shaky when Peter up and mentions _fucking him_ and it's just said so damn causally, like it would be no big deal for Peter to do just that, and Derek's stomach gives a complicated lurch because he's never bottomed before - he's never wanted to - but maybe he's just this fucked up to--

Peter's wandering hand distracts him (and Peter is right. If it _had_ just been sex, he'd have headed to a bar). A claw skims over a nipple and Derek's pecs twitch, unsure about the sensation, but then a more pressing issue grabs his attention as Peter's hand skims over his throat.

Time stops for a second. Derek waits for the violence, for the rip of claws, but it never comes. Instead, Peter gets to work on ripping the back half of his shirt until it's split and only the sleeves remain intact.

Peter crowds over him and his mouth comes to the Triskelion tattoo. Alpha, Beta, Omega - no status is guaranteed to be permanent. Peter and him are living proof and Peter's attention to the tattoo burned into him has a tremor passing down Derek's back. The question though? Derek should have a list flying out of his mouth of things he refuses to do, but now that all-out sex is off the table...

"I don't know if I even want to try and think of what you could come up with," Derek answers truthfully.

* * *

Peter's smile widens at Derek's answer, enough that Derek can undoubtedly feel it against his back, over his tattoo. While Peter needs to tread carefully here, he's certainly no saint, nor does he pretend to be. Derek had come to _him_ over anyone else who might have helped him. That means something, but it doesn't mean everything. While Peter knows that he can be an egotistical bastard, he's not an idiot. This isn't a show of permanent loyalty. This is Derek's instincts falling back on old habits during his vulnerability. Peter isn't a good enough man to send him away. He doesn't want to be.

He can quiet the voices in Derek's mind. Being on equal standing would be preferable, but that Derek knows he could escape if he needed to gives him comfort, and the freedom to allow this, so Peter isn't too bothered. He feels the growing hardness under his hands, feels the tension in Derek's back as he holds himself up on Peter's command, and he's still interested in the shudder he'd felt against his chest when he'd nipped at the tattoo. That's something to explore if ever this happens again.

"Probably a fair assumption," he murmurs against Derek's back. "I'm quite creative when I put my mind to it. Though I suppose if you have any objections, you _do_ have the advantage of brute strength."

Peter trails off, and it's clear that he no longer cares about what he'd been asking. As far as he's concerned, the topic has been dealt with. Instead he considers the position that Derek is in, and all of the ways that this could go. This _is_ an attractive position, but Derek's able to disconnect far too easily. A face shoved in the shag carpet is, ironically, good for a shag. For this, though... Peter tilts his head, thoughtful, and his hand continues to lazily stroke over the outline of Derek's cock. He has no desire to rip into Derek's jeans, and he doesn't really feel inclined to take his cock out. That's not what this is about.

The solution comes to Peter then. He stills, contemplates, and then he suddenly leans away. He _could_ do it himself, of course. He's strong enough. But there's something entirely more satisfying about making _Derek_ do it.

"Change of plans. Move up a little onto the carpet and then turn over onto your back. I want your hands still up above your head. Grab onto a table leg if you must. And be a dear and spread your legs for me."

* * *

As he feels the curve of his uncle's lips against his back, Derek isn't surprised that his answer amuses Peter. Peter lives for any advantage and right now Peter _does_ have an advantage here. It's one that Derek is giving him - that Derek is _allowing_ \- but it still exists. Derek doesn't want to think of how far he's fallen to be doing this, but he knows Peter is right - no one else would have known what to do and they certainly wouldn't have even _done_ it anyhow. None of his Betas or so-called friends would ever think he would need something like this.

Derek doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's apparently aroused too. Arousal and sex are things he's at least used to, but is his arousal due to Peter's involvement or is it the submitting? The lines feel blurred, the questions plentiful and the answers are something Derek doesn't want to delve into. Surely he's just beaten down enough that he needs the break. It can't be his uncle, can't be Laura's killer...

So he holds his hips up for Peter. His claws dig into the stupid carpet. His eyes remain his own, not the red of the Alpha. Derek's not afraid of Peter. Peter's had the chance to go for his throat violently and Peter hadn't taken it. Derek doesn't know if it's trust or just a stupid lingering hope that his uncle might have at least one good bone in his body left.

Still, it's a relief to hear Peter acknowledge that he's able to fight back if he has an objection. Derek just makes a noncommittal sound, unsure of what to say or do _now._ He's in Peter's arena and Derek hadn't been lying, he doesn't want to think about what Peter may have in plan for him. For now, Peter's hand rubs slowly against his dick and even with the layers of clothing, it feels good because it's stimulation.

But then the touch is gone and Peter is detailing what he wants to be done. The positional change is by no means difficult, although Derek is keenly aware that if he turns onto his back, Peter will be able to see him more clearly - to be able to see his face. Sure, Derek doesn't like his face in the carpet, but Peter _seeing_ him? That's also uncomfortable, just in a different way.

Once more, Derek doesn't move immediately. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to regain what composure he can before he gets to his knees and then shrugs out of the now tattered t-shirt. He then moves up a little before turning around and laying down on his back. Derek lifts his arms up and while he _can_ reach the leg of the table, Derek forgoes it and instead clasps his hands together. The last thing he does is spread his legs.

Derek stares up at the ceiling resolutely.

* * *

There's something wholly satisfying in watching Derek comply. He's clearly not pleased about it, his movements slow but tense. Peter watches as muscles play under Derek's skin, watches as Derek slowly rises onto his knees once it's clear that Peter isn't going to continue unless he complies. The tattered remains of his shirt hang down loosely, torn through. The scene almost looks grizzly with the amount of dried-and-drying blood on the remnants of Derek's shirt from where Peter's claws had caught him during their scuffle. It's a good look on him, and as Peter watches with his eyes bright and curious, Derek shrugs the shirt off of himself, the split fabric falling to the floor. Peter hooks a claw in the shreds and pulls them free of his poor carpet, then watches as Derek sets about doing as he'd said.

He looks like he's going to the executioner's block, and Peter considers how simple that would be. He isn't going to take advantage of it; Derek's still stronger than he is. His eyes may not be red but his instincts would still be quick. One touch of a claw to his throat and Peter might find himself dead a second time. So instead he sits back and watches as Derek lays back on the carpet, smudged, dried blood on his chest, his arms lifting over his head. Peter glances down at the open line of Derek's jeans and the tenting of the fabric beneath and hums a soft sound, almost appreciative.

Derek doesn't look at him when he spreads his legs. He doesn't look at him after. Peter doesn't care. He slides in closer, moving in on his knees until they prop under Derek's thighs, forcing Derek's legs to half-wrap around him. Peter parts Derek's jeans a little more, showing the line of his cock, and he traces two fingers over it, then moves to arrange it into a comfortable, more artful position. Only then does he whistle low, uncaring how taunting it might sound.

"Someone certainly doesn't have anything to be ashamed of."

Peter glances up at Derek, at the way Derek staunchly isn't looking at him. Then he simply looks down to the blood on Derek's skin. Peter smiles, glancing up at Derek again, then makes his decision. He leans over, placing one hand against the carpet, the other on Derek's thigh. Peter leans down and licks a slow, broad stripe just under Derek's ribs, following a line his claws had made moments before. His thumb finds the sensitive underside of Derek's cock, stroking back and forth over the frenulum as he licks, then sucks, then finally bites sharply with human teeth. If Derek won't look at him, Peter will make it difficult for him to detach.

* * *

The apartment smells of arousal and blood, of lingering aggression. These are scents that Derek is all too familiar with. Same goes for Peter. Being raised in a family of werewolves, bouts of fights were common. Of course, discipline was touted as essential, control paramount. Recklessness hadn't been rewarded, and Derek knows he's an abysmal Alpha because of his lack of discipline and control. His mother wouldn't be proud, but his mother is dead. Derek has never asked anyone how long it takes to stop grieving. After the fire, counselors at school tried to get him to talk, to open up about his feelings, but he'd staunchly refused to speak to them.

He'd told a comatose Peter a few things. When he'd been desperate, snot-nosed and crying and so fucking _weak,_ he'd spilled his guts _._ Derek never wants to be that broken, desperate boy again but...

What is this then? Willingly surrendering control to his uncle, to a _Beta_. Had he not been desperate when he stormed into Peter's apartment, hoping to incite a fight? His useless thoughts are stopped when Peter slithers closer, coming in between his legs and when Peter's sure hand fiddles with his jeans, fingers idly touching before rearranging his cock for who knows what purpose, Derek tenses. He doesn't like laying and doing nothing. If he's messing around with someone, he's always an active participant. Like this, Derek is laid out for Peter and _vulnerable._

The sheer panic of the word makes it easy enough to tune out Peter's taunt about his size. Derek closes his eyes. He wants to look at the broken vase, at the uneven shards and he wants to break more things. Peter coming closer, Peter bending down and licking where he'd previously scratched has Derek clenching his jaw to not make a sound. (He has no clue which sound would even come out.) It gets increasingly difficult to remain both silent and motionless when Peter's thumb comes to play with his dick as Peter's mouth makes a further introduction.

When another bite comes, Derek has enough. He doesn't like the surprise. Something snaps and he pushes Peter away and leaps up onto his feet. It's better now. Slightly. Peter is on the floor and his wolf likes it, but leaving is not want Derek wants.

"Can't... Not like that," Derek mumbles and it's exceedling difficult for him to stay here and attempt to work out what he's trying to get to. Leaving is easier. Running away. Instead, he offers his hand to Peter to help him up. "I don't like laying there exposed. Can... Can I be up against a wall or something?"

Peter had said sex and Derek had agreed, but as this continues, Derek can't help but wonder if that's what he really needs.

* * *

 _Just sex_ , he'd said, and Derek had agreed. Derek had given his consent, but now, laid on his back, his legs spread, and his eyes turned away, Peter finds himself wondering at whether or not the consent has been revoked. Derek's pulse is quick, but there's nothing dishonest about it, and as Peter's hands touch and entice and his teeth bite, he chances a glance at Derek and notes that he's still apparently locked away in his own mind. Peter watches, thoughtful, and while the thought strikes again that he could easily lunge for Derek's throat and steal back what had been taken from him, it's nothing more than an intrusive thought.

What _isn't_ is the fact that not a few seconds later, Derek's pulse picks up sharply and it's clear that _something_ has just occurred to him. Peter's eyes narrow and that is what makes him bite harder, trying to draw Derek's attention back to _him_. It might have worked, too, except Derek suddenly lunges to his feet so quickly that it even catches Peter off guard. He's shoved away, landing back on the floor, and Peter's claws are already out; he's already bracing himself for a fight, but when he looks up at Derek and hears his pounding pulse and sees the way his eyes cast down, understanding slowly dawns.

Silently, Peter reaches up with one hand when Derek offers his own, and Peter stands up. He shares a leery glance with Derek, waiting for him to explain, and while it takes Derek a moment, he finally does. It doesn't escape Peter's notice that Derek could claw his way out of here, could run, could leave Peter bleeding. But Derek doesn't move, and while his pulse stays fast, he does seem a little more present on his feet.

Well. Never let it be said that Peter isn't flexible. And as he looks at his nephew now, despite the erection straining in his jeans and Peter's own arousal, suddenly the plans have changed. Sex is all well and good, but it appears that Derek has realized that it's not what he needs, which _is_ a surprise. Peter makes his decision.

"Of course. But there's been a little change of plans. I keep forgetting how much you loathe being idle. So..."

Peter takes a step closer, as if to check whether or not Derek will _let_ him. When no snarl comes, Peter reaches up with one hand and sets it on Derek's shoulder. Then he tightens his grip and turns, guiding Derek around and then walking him forward until Derek's chest comes to rest up against the wall of Peter's apartment. It's no violent throw, but when Peter presses him there, it's clear that he means for Derek to _stay_.

"You're going to stay here and listen to me. I expect you to do what I tell you to, or at least try. If you have objections, you voice them, but respectfully. If you throw me off like that again, I'll show you the door."

Peter's tone is firm but not cruel. His hand slides over then, and instead of biting the way Peter _has_ been doing, he places his hand warmly on the back of Derek's nape and then grips solidly, pressing him against the wall. And while Peter is not an Alpha, he still feels the tentative strings of their bond flare. He squeezes tighter.

"I want you to keep your hands at your sides. Lean against my hand or against the wall, and close your eyes. If I feel you drifting, I won't hesitate to bring you back." He wets his lips, feeling the sluggishly-healing cuts. "Now... give me a number between fifty and a hundred. The first that comes to mind."

* * *

Derek's helped Peter up before and Peter has done the same for him. At one point in time, his uncle had been his best friend... Things are not so simple now. Things are exceedingly more complicated and messy and Derek feels wholly incapable of sorting it out. He knows that he _should_ be able to do it. Being the Alpha, it's expected that he keeps everything - everyone - together. It's a responsibility he'd never thought about having. He hadn't wanted to take the status _from_ Peter as much as punish his uncle for Laura. Derek hadn't wanted _power_. He hadn't wanted more strength.

But he knows life doesn't care about his wants.

Derek is expecting Peter to taunt him, to turn up his nose at his indecision - at his weakness - but instead, Peter takes his hand and is helped up (not that he needs it). Peter is understandably wary and Derek detests the sensation of being examined by his uncle, but he holds his ground as Peter works out what he wants to do.

Peter doesn't sound off-put and Derek doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing, actually, but he doesn't attack or make to leave when Peter steps closer. He does tense minutely when Peter's hand comes to rest on his shoulder, but no reprimand or violence follows. Once that grip tightens, Derek's eyebrows pull in, clearly expecting the worst but he's simply directed to turn around and is walked to the wall, his chest pressed to against it, his head forced to turn to the side. It's not bad. It's still vaguely sexual but Derek doesn't feel so exposed. It's better.

Peter's words are surprisingly practical and fair, but that doesn't mean that he _likes_ Peter dictating how things are going to be. He thinks he should be able to throw Peter off whenever, but Derek says nothing in response. As Peter's hand travels over to the back of his neck, the sudden grip is nothing but reassuring and Derek relaxes against his better judgment. He feels slightly safer like this and also closer to Peter which seems strange because this is typically behavior an Alpha would do to calm a Beta and it's not supposed to be like this.

But it is.

Derek listens to the next instructions. They're simple. His hands remain by his sides and he leans against the wall more fully. Closing his eyes happens after a bit of an internal debate but he complies. The darkness makes his other senses heightened, but he tries to not focus on the blood and awful arousal. He may not know what Peter has planned, but Derek gives his answer: "Seventy."

* * *

There's no judgment in Peter at the existence of the arousal still. Derek might be inwardly loathing himself for it, for something so twisted, but Peter is far more nonchalant about it. Derek might be his family, but there's no denying that he's attractive. Besides, right now that is no longer what this is about, if it ever _had_ been. Derek had defaulted to sex, but his need is so much more than something so simple and easy to obtain. It's not even as simple as getting out of his own head. Peter could fight him, could cut him, could make him bleed, could serve as a distraction and let Derek fly high above himself, but that isn't what had brought Derek to him.

Getting Derek out of his head would be a temporary measure. As Peter looks him over, noting the immediate sag of relaxation as his hand squeezes Derek's neck, he knows _his_ suspicion is going to be far more challenging. Whether or not he'll be able to accomplish it is still up in the air, but he's going to try, if just for his own sake. Derek might be the Alpha, but here, even though it hasn't been plainly stated, Peter is in charge. If just in this slightly-warped view, _Peter_ is the Alpha. An old part of him wishes that weren't important but the creature in his chest snarls its victory, albeit quietly.

Derek is far more important. Derek doesn't need to be out of his head - he needs to be comfortable _within_ it, which is going to be the challenge. Peter can remember the anxiety-stricken child rushing to him, hands wringing, eyes valiantly trying not to tear up when Talia had been gone a day too long on a business trip. Peter remembers how intensive calming Derek back down had been.

Peter's eyes glitter blue as he feels the tension begin to leach out of Derek's body. Derek does as he'd been told, relaxing, and though it takes him a second, Peter watches him close his eyes. The desire to lunge and bite is still present, but he doesn't do it. In some warped way, this is still loyalty to an Alpha.

"Good. Now, from seventy, I want you to start counting backwards by twos. All the way to zero. If you miss one, just go back and start from the one you missed. I want you to tell me each number clearly," Peter says lowly, his hand squeezing against Derek's nape before relaxing, then doing it again. It's almost a massage, intended to release relaxation into his system.

* * *

There is still arousal. Derek can smell it, feel it coursing through his own body. Sex - in some form - could likely be an option. Peter is depraved enough to see no problem indulging and Derek... Derek is apparently messed up enough that his body has responded favorably to what Peter has done to him.

Sex is easy. Sex is simple. You have a role and you act out the required actions. You read your partner, you figure out what excites their body and you repeat the motion. You whisper filthy sentiments - not that talking is even necessary at times. If drunk, most partners he takes home are content enough that they've snagged the attention of someone hot, they don't require much in way of conversation. It's a shallow world they live in, but Derek benefits from it. He doesn't want anyone to get to know him, anyway. He has his pack and that's enough. Fucking fulfills a need, scratches an itch, but that's that.

But Peter _knows_ him. Peter knows him more than Derek would like. Does Derek trust Peter that Peter can untangle things? Perhaps. Yes. He must, because he's pressed against a wall, his eyes closed, and he's going to play along with this game apparently. Derek doesn't understand the logic of it - if there is even logic to begin with. Peter's grip is firm and reassuring and Derek attempts to focus on it. He manages it until Peter speaks up and explains. Derek immediately tries to make sense of the instructions, to understand the purpose, the meaning, because on the surface, it's ridiculous. It's just counting. He's not a child. Agitation spikes.

Derek remains still in his consideration. Peter's hand grasps his neck - squeezes - and his body wants to relax further, but he's struggling with the sheer ridiculousness of the task. But if he doesn't do it, what then? Will Peter stop touching him? Will this - whatever this is - end?

"Seventy," Derek grits out. "Sixty-eight. Sixty-six. Sixty-four..." His eyes remain closed as he focuses on the instruction and as he counts down, his voice gradually loses its edge.

* * *

Peter can sense Derek's agitation spike. The flood of it stings his nose, but the scent isn't unpleasant. It's merely enough to metaphorically raise Peter's hackles into a mild semblance of wariness. An irritated Alpha is not the best thing, after all. Derek can still lash out, can still do real damage. Peter's wounds are still sluggishly bleeding, though the clotting has finally begun. Alpha-inflicted wounds last far longer, and while Peter's not pleased about how much the gashes sting, his mind is no longer on them. Instead his mind is on Derek, on the irritation he can feel and the tension he can feel building in him.

Derek's expression is pinched from what Peter can see but he doesn't relent. He waits until Derek _finally_ starts to do as he'd been told, counting down. Peter doesn't say anything, just listens, and while Derek's voice starts off tight and clipped, it begins to slowly relax as he goes on. Some of the tension leaves his tone, but slowly, like he can't really believe that this is actually helping him feel less panicked.

Peter doesn't interrupt. He simply stays where he is, keeping Derek pinned with one hand while his free hand squeezes the back of Derek's neck every time he hits a multiple of ten. It's slow and steady and Peter doesn't give any further instruction. He just waits until Derek gets down lower and lower, and when he finally hits zero, Peter strokes his hand slowly from Derek's nape all the way down his back, his fingers pressing into knotted, tight muscles as a form of distraction. He hums a small sound, something sounding pleased, and then slides his hand back up again to Derek's nape.

Peter digs his fingers into the tight muscles there, and it becomes clear that this is almost a reward. Then he squeezes Derek's nape again and presses in closer. Arousal exists but is no longer important. Truly, seeing Derek like this, feeling the power he's wielding? This is much better than sex.

"Mm, good. Now again. This time from zero, count by fives until you reach seventy. Nice and slow; it'll be easier, so I want you to clearly enunciate each number."

* * *

On some level, Derek still knows this is ridiculous. He's essentially playing some counting game with his uncle. He's _obeying_ a Beta. He's counting for Peter. He's pinned to the wall with a reassuring grip still on his back of his neck. The entire picture is absurd and wrong and yet Derek is doing nothing to change or stop it. The mere idea of anyone - pack included - seeing him like this would have Derek's stomach churning. He's still not convinced Peter won't use this as some form of blackmail later on. Either way, it's still ammunition. Peter may not _use_ the gun, but Derek is loading it for him. This is dangerous, but when has that ever dropped a Hale?

So he counts and it's a subconscious relaxation that seeps into both his body and mind. He feels less on edge, less likely to pick a random fight with anyone (Peter included). Derek is aware that he's hurt Peter, that Peter's healing will be slower because he's an Alpha. Derek doesn't plan on apologizing though.

When he finishes, Peter's hand slides down his back, fingers pressing against a tense knot, working at it before a pleased sound follows.

And Derek, for some reason, likes that pleased sound. It makes something warm and almost satisfied settle in his chest. He'd done what Peter had asked and now Peter is practically massaging his neck. Peter crowds into him and a part of Derek's wolf wants to rise up and bite, to swat Peter back down and away, but there is also a part - a weak human part - that likes being caged against the wall by Peter's firm body. Derek does nothing as able fingers squeeze at his neck and then vocal praise comes next and more instructions.

Derek should say no. He should tell Peter to fuck off.

But he doesn't. This is deceptively simple. It's easy to do. Derek appreciates the simplicity. He appreciates the attention and narrowing his mind in on something ridiculous as counting. He doesn't know how to say any of this. But Peter isn't asking him to articulate.

"Zero, five, ten, fifteen," Derek begins. He feels a little stupid for the added emphasis on enunciating and when he says twenty-five, Derek shakes his head, doubt slapping at him. "Is this really what you want to be doing?"

* * *

It's difficult to ascertain what is going on in Derek's mind, but it's simple enough to feel the tension in his body as it ebbs and flows. His single touch had proven that Derek would do well to go a few rounds with a giant meat tenderizer for all the knots and tension he carries with him, but Peter isn't surprised. Derek has never done things just by halves before and this is no different. So as Derek relaxes under his hands, Peter can't help the small pleased smirk that touches his lips. It's not cruel, merely satisfied. Maybe Derek's face doesn't give anything away, but his relaxation does.

Derek still hesitates for a moment before complying with Peter's next instructions, but he goes ahead and begins anew. Yes, it is mindless and simple, but _how_ simple it is is practically an art form. Peter listens as Derek counts, listens for any hesitation or uncertainty. He checks that Derek's hands are where he'd told Derek to keep them, and checks his level of tension as his hand squeezes rhythmically at Derek's neck. Still, Peter only manages one squeeze before Derek's mind apparently gets the better of him. He's not really surprised. Fives are too simple.

"It's what I want _you_ to be doing," Peter answers simply, and he presses a little harder on the back of Derek's neck, forcing him against the wall a little more as if in reminder that Peter's the one calling the shots right now. He steps in closer, close enough that his chest presses against Derek's back, a solid warmth to remind Derek that he's grounded.

"If you can do this, I'll have more for you when you're done. But I expect you to finish this first. Go on, Derek," Peter adds lowly, almost conversationally. Then, perhaps on a whim, he slides his free hand up and his fingers stroke once through Derek's hair, a further physical distraction. "You were at twenty-five."

* * *

There's a risk that if he speaks up Peter is going to just wash his hands of him and be done. This doesn't have a label. Derek doesn't want this to have a label because if this is _something,_ it means it's real. It's not some crazy exception, a one-off.

God, this needs to be a one-off. It needs to be a one-time thing because this already feels like it's too far. It's too much. Blood, power plays, arousal. This is spiraling. It had never been firmly in his hands to begin with, but Peter and him had an understanding, at least. Peter remained a part of the pack, he became a mentor of sorts, but the minute Peter made to plot or made a play to snatch back the Alpha status, Derek would be done with him.

Peter has behaved, more or less, but there's no guarantee it will stay that way and Derek is practically exposing his neck for Peter to claw at.

The counting had helped until Derek's mind had butted in. Peter's reply does settle something inside of him and Derek _wants_ to be displeased by it, but he can't. Not now. Peter crowds into him, a warm and somewhat bloodied chest coming to slot behind him. Derek swallows. Right now, it's difficult to be angry at Peter. It's difficult to see his uncle as a monster who killed his sister. Undoubtedly, it would be easier if he could. Hate is so much simpler.

Peter doesn't scold him and he doesn't make him feel like an idiot for stopping or doubting. It's... somewhat unheard of, but Derek appreciates it (which also irks him). When one of Peter's hand strokes through his hair, Derek's scalp tingles at the attention and he sighs. He might as well finish. He's already here.

Derek counts and focuses on the feeling of his uncle behind him, steady and unyielding.

* * *

Derek's relaxation is how Peter measures his nephew's level of stress. While there are a few more blips here and there, Derek does give in for the most part. He seems to accept what Peter has said and continues counting as he'd been told, his voice steadier and his muscles slowly relaxing more and more. Peter doesn't say anything for once. Teasing and antagonizing are for when Derek is feeling more stable. Right now isn't the time to do that. So instead Peter listens as he counts, squeezes his nape when Derek hits a milestone, and when Derek trails off again, Peter's free hand strokes through his hair, nails gently scratching at Derek's scalp. And, once again, his hand slides down Derek's back, targeting muscles that have relaxed since in order to gently press and coax life back into them.

He spends longer on it this time, coaxing the relaxation back into Derek's body, giving him a firm reward along with softer, encouraging murmurs. He's not condescending with it, but he _is_ casual, like this is perfectly normal behavior.

"All right. One last time. I want you to count back by sevens," Peter instructs, aware that this will take more mental energy. "Every time you say a number, I want you to make a tight fist and then let it go before moving on to the next one. So, nice and slow."

His hand slides back up to Derek's nape again, but this time Peter just kneads his fingers into the muscles there, as if testing them for tension. Only when he's ascertained what he wants does he lay his palm warmly over the back of Derek's neck and give it a squeeze. Then he leans in and lets his stubble scratch lightly just under Derek's jaw.

But instead of whispering filth or taunts the way he had before, all Peter says is, "and focus on me. Match your breathing to mine as you do it. Focus on my heartbeat if you want."

* * *

Peter had been the one to teach him control on the full moon. In certain ways, Peter had been more like an older brother. When Derek had been young, he'd often wished that Peter could have been his brother, but Peter had been a good uncle. Not perfect, not easy and certainly not doting (at least not when Derek became a teenager). But Peter had been around and available which meant more to Derek than being spoiled.

And then Derek had met a feisty blond, fallen head over heels because he'd been desperate to forget about Paige, and gotten nearly his entire family killed. Derek remembers thinking that... that it would have been better for Peter to have died too, that Derek should put Peter out of his misery because Peter wouldn't have wanted to live in a comatose state. But Derek had been too weak. Derek hadn't wanted to lose more. So he hadn't.

And nothing is easier or simpler, but Derek counts and Peter touches him. The touch isn't sexual, violent or overly soft. It's grounding. It's a connection and Derek hates that it's also _comforting_. He hasn't been comforted often. It's not his place to receive comfort as the Alpha either... But here he is anyway counting for Peter, eyes closed and feeling _better_.

The next set of instructions are more complicated but certainly doable. His arousal has calmed some but when Peter's head leans in closer, stubble scratching against his own, Derek does shiver.

And he does focus on Peter too. He can both feel and hear Peter's heartbeat and this is as close as they've been in years.

Later. Later Derek will think this is crazy, will berate himself for allowing this but now... Now he does exactly what Peter has outlined. He counts back from seventy, but every number said aloud is followed with him clenching his fists before releasing them. His breathing matches up with Peter's own.

Peter doesn't taunt. Peter doesn't antagonize. Eventually Derek stops expecting it. And then he finds himself much better at the end. Still and quiet.

* * *

Derek does everything that Peter had asked him to do. Every odd request, every physical action, no matter how strange, Derek complies in the end, and Peter coaxes him through it. Slowly, sluggishly, Peter's wounds begin to heal. The bleeding has stopped, though they still sting, but as Derek counts down from seventy again, Peter doesn't move away. His blood will be left behind on Derek's skin, will likely wind up flaking off in his car, and the thought is pleasant. Peter has always enjoyed the idea of leaving his mark, and this is as good a way as any.

Despite the occasional intrusive thought - how relaxed Derek is, how it would be simple to press his claws to Derek's throat and pull - Peter remains calm and doesn't act on them. This honestly carries most of the bite out of them. Violence is more his go-to now than it had been before, and yet there's something about the power of having an Alpha under his hands and _obeying_ that quiets Peter's mind to something almost pleasant. He leads Derek through the last set of numbers and then squeezes his nape again once Derek is done.

For the third and final time, Peter's hands glide over Derek's skin, pressing and testing as his muscles slowly relax. Peter touches a knot that had been nearly violent before and finds it relaxed, hardly present. Pleased, Peter keeps moving his hands until Derek's tension seems to be drained out of him. His breathing is slow and careful, his tension eased. Only then does Peter bask in the position, his eyes bleeding blue as he feels Derek's little shiver and only glowing brighter when he takes in how relaxed Derek seems. Peter had done that, and sex or not, it had been clear power that Derek had handed to him.

"You did well. Remember the way this feels, Derek. And when your mind starts to play tricks on you again, you know where I'll be," Peter says lowly into his ear, a smirk playing on his lips.

He'll clean Derek up a little, perhaps offer him a change of clothes, and he'll send him on his way when the desire strikes him. But for now, Peter is more than content to keep Derek stable and bask in this rare gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos greatly accepted and encourage us to write/post more! (✿╹◡╹)


	2. The Alpha of an Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The taunt is just that, a taunt, and for a brief moment, time _does_ slow. Peter looks at the way his claws appear as they indent against Derek's skin. Derek isn't wrong. One slash, one _win_ and it would be his again. And yes, a part of him _does_ want that. He aches for it like a missing limb, like the glimpse of a long-lost memory. And yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stuck in an airport, so I might as well post this, right!? - merry

Derek doesn't remain still for long. While he does feel infinitely better - more relaxed and certainly more calm - this is still his uncle holding him to the wall. Derek can't deny reality and the reality is that he'd submitted to Peter, a Beta. And he's counted like a child, but before that... before that he'd let Peter touch him too. He'd gotten aroused by Peter pinning him down or something...

It's a confusing mess and after what feels like far too long, eventually Derek gruffly tells Peter that he has to go. He waves off the offer to get cleaned up. He leaves his tattered shirt on the carpet; it fits with the broken pieces of the vase. Derek shrugs on his leather jacket and makes a beeline for the door. It's a small concession that he doesn't slam it. (Peter would probably get a kick out of that.)

He tries to ignore the scent of Peter's blood that clings to his skin, mixing with his own. By now, Peter's wounds should be well on their way to healing. The thought doesn't exactly offer any comfort to Derek. He drives with the window down, his arm resting out, and the rushing night air helping to distract him. Peter's words swirl in his mind:

_'And when your mind starts to play tricks on you again, you know where I'll be.'_

Derek wants to think of it as a taunt, as something to staunchly ignore, but...

There's a _but_ he doesn't want to think about, so he doesn't. Derek takes a long shower and rubs a bar of soap over his skin, scrubbing at it to battle the scent of Peter.

* * *

Life goes on, as it often does. Not even death can permanently stop it in Peter's case, but he hasn't thought of his impromptu resurrection in quite some time. It lingers in his subconscious during some evenings, jolting him awake with his eyes aching to flash red, but he doesn't linger. Peter doesn't often linger on things the way his nephew does, and so in true Peter fashion, when Derek leaves that day, Peter gathers himself up and makes his way quietly to the bathroom in order to clean up.

Only one injury needs him to hold it closed for it to properly start knitting itself back together. It's deep, a slash across his chest, and Peter grimaces as he digs his claws into the skin beside it to hold it together. But all in all, for a fight with an Alpha, no matter how destitute, it's not bad. So he waits for his own injuries to heal enough on their own, then strips down his bloodied, ruined clothes and goes to get a broom for the level of destruction left behind.

It's almost cathartic, the clean up. Peter lets himself think only briefly on Derek, then even more on the relaxation that power - even falsified - had brought him. When he steps into the shower later and washes the dried blood away, Peter basks in the heat and the phantom feeling of Derek's nape under his hand.

* * *

Dealing with Scott and the merry band of teenagers is both aggravating and exhausting. It reinforces the idea that he's not at all ready to be the Alpha which is then, in turn, infuriating. Anyone else - pack or not - witnessing his frustration and perceived ineptitude is one of Derek's least favorite experiences. He'd never signed up for this. He hadn't been thinking of the consequences of killing Peter. He'd made Betas, a desperate attempt to create a pack, but being a leader is not something intrinsic within Derek. It's not something he'd been born with, not by a longshot. More than anything, he wishes his mother or sister were around. He should have died. They should have--

Derek knows he's too untrusting. He's too impulsive. He doesn't know the best ways to train and teach them. It had been so different being born into it. Peter crawling his way back into life had... It had actually been a relief in ways. Peter's the only tie to the past. The shambles of their home lie burnt and forgotten, but Peter is now alive and it _is_ a relief to have another Hale by him even if it's his usually-conniving uncle.

"You guys order pizza, I'll pay, but don't go crazy," Derek suddenly announces as he stands. They're at his loft and he just needs some space. Stiles gives a predictable whoop while the rest of them - Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Jackson - brighten at the prospect of a break and free food.

"Peter. Upstairs now," Derek adds on and gestures to the spiral staircase which leads up to more sparsely furnished rooms. Derek leads the way and he has no doubt that Peter will follow while the children scramble around Stiles' laptop to pick a place and look at the menu. His jaw is clenched as he takes the stairs two at a time.

* * *

Peter doesn't let the memories of their encounter linger. What's done is done, and considering the fact that he still knows his nephew even now, he knows enough to be well aware that Derek won't let this rest unless Peter does. So when the next pack meeting rolls around, Peter acts precisely the way he normally does. Oh, yes, he does look at Derek and remember the pinch to his expression on occasion, but he doesn't _say_ anything. He's more than content to lounge on the spiral staircase, his expression mild as Derek attempts to wrangle the pack. It's quite a feat, and Peter's almost amused to see how hard Derek is trying to pretend that he's all right.

Peter appears to be the only one really listening, aside from Stiles perhaps, as the news is only half-important in the long run, but Peter's focus narrows in on Derek. He watches the stress slowly building and considers saying something but ultimately leaves it. Instead he stretches out on the staircase then stands, making his way down to the open space. Peter doesn't look at Derek and Derek tries not to look at him.

Even so, when Derek suddenly mentions pizza nearly twenty minutes later, Peter _is_ caught off guard. He looks up calmly, lifts an eyebrow, and then shrugs. Standing, he follows Derek upstairs, his curiosity getting the better of him, as he hadn't expected Derek to mention him or even _look_ at him so soon after Derek had needed Peter's "help." Yet as Peter climbs the stairs, he can't help but notice that Derek's posture seems a little tense. His shoulders are cut squarely and Peter's curiosity grows even more as he takes each step.

Only when they're upstairs with the door closed behind them does Peter finally say anything. And even then, his tone is casual as he makes his way over to a comfortable sofa in the corner. While Derek stands stiffly, Peter makes a point to make himself at home.

"I'm not certain your shoulders could _be_ more tense if you'd actually been carved from stone," he quips. "I don't see why you're so stressed. One wolf is nothing compared to what the pack has faced in the past, so I can only assume this impromptu rendez-vous has a different origin. So, tell me. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

* * *

It's never been stupidly easy being a werewolf, but Derek can remember how _he_ used to be... He'd been happy and naive, chasing after Paige, rolling his eyes at his mom's warnings (never to her face though). Derek remembers asking for kissing advice from Peter. He remembers the feeling of being in love, of loving someone enough that just seeing Paige made him instantly feel better no matter how shitty his day had been. He remembers being so in awe of Paige. He remembers wanting to cherish her like she was the most expensive thing in the world. Derek also remembers the fear of losing her. She wasn't like him. She couldn't heal. She wasn't fast or strong.

But she'd proven a strength of a different kind as her body fought and fought to live despite the agonizing pain of the bite. Derek's time to cherish her came to an end. Golden eyes became icy blue and he'd clung to her body as it lost heat. And Derek had been devastated and wrecked by his horrible mistake, so much so that Kate had felt like a breath of fresh air. She'd been older and confident. She hadn't coddled him. She'd made him feel good and feeling good, having her attention? It made the pain lessen. But pain and being a Hale seem to go hand in hand and Kate had ushered in such devastating destruction.

Derek thinks he hasn't made any tremendously ill-advised decisions _recently_ , but he's afraid of making another one. After all, the Kanima had been his fault and while Jackson is a normal werewolf _now_ , he'd killed many before Peter and Derek had sunk their claws into the teenager. He hears Peter behind him, steps causal, scent giving away nothing. When they make it to the room, Peter is the one to shut the door and then make his way over to the one couch available.

Derek makes no move to come closer and he scowls as Peter opts to be dismissive of the most-recent possible threat - an unknown wolf prowling in the preserve that they have yet to make contact with.

"I'm not stressed," Derek lies, a hand coming to his hip as he backs up and leans against the door as casual as he can manage. "Just wanted to let you know that we won't be having a repeat of what happened last time we were alone."

* * *

Peter blinks. Then he blinks again, slow and obvious. He looks at Derek in complete silence, then over at the door he'd stood himself beside, and then over at the far window of the second floor, as if waiting for _it_ to make sense, if nothing else. Finally, upon the realization that no, he's not dreaming, and _yes_ , Derek _is_ that dense, Peter finally looks back at him and there's a lightness in his expression that's a little too relaxed, almost like he's realized he's dealing with a toddler. At present, the notion isn't far off.

"I see," Peter says slowly, without a trace of malice in his voice, which, really, should be Derek's first clue.

He stands up then, as suddenly the couch no longer holds his attention. Looking Derek's posture over slowly - from the hand on his hip to the valiant effort being made to appear casual - Peter then looks up at his nephew, his lips twisting into something close to mocking, but he doesn't fully let that show yet. Instead, Peter walks over, monitoring Derek for any change in his tension the closer Peter gets. When he's close enough to almost reach out and touch Derek, he veers off and sets his own back against the wall next to Derek, then looks over at him, one eyebrow lifted in incredulity.

"So let me get this straight, then. You interrupted a _pack meeting_ , where you are often the most anal-retentive person I've ever met when people don't listen to you, _just_ so you could drag me up here and tell me that there won't be a repeat of anything particularly incestuous?"

Peter's never had a problem with being blunt, particularly when it proves his point. "Is that about right, Derek?"

* * *

Casual has always been Peter's forte. Derek knows this and yet he tries to pull it off here and now. Derek's thing? According to the pack, probably brooding and pissed off. Which, Derek has to reluctantly agree is an accurate assessment. He's been called a few colorful insults, but he has thick skin. He can take it. How _kids_ think about him doesn't matter. It _shouldn't_ matter to him but... This is the pack he has now. Pack means family and it's up to him to keep them together and attempt to deal with problem after problem and diffuse situations.

Peter looks... unimpressed by what he's said. Derek's pretty sure it's not a good reaction, but most of his uncle's responses are not good. Peter is rather changeable and extremely difficult when he wants to be. The simple response is another red flag. Peter is calm and almost indifferent. And then Peter rises from the couch and Derek stands his ground. He doesn't leave the room (which is what he should probably do). He can hear the children narrowing down their pizza choices, completely uncaring that he and Peter aren't there.

Peter approaches him and Derek hates how his instincts flare to stand straighter and posture, to be the bigger wolf and not allow Peter any satisfaction of the discomfort that Peter effortlessly brings him. Derek doesn't let his eyes flash red. He doesn't let his claws grow. Peter nearly crowds into his space and before Derek can process how his body responds to the increased proximity, Peter decides to mirror his position and his back comes to rest against the wall. The look Peter throws him isn't good. Derek knows that much.

Of course he doesn't need to wait long before Peter delivers his retort. The longer Peter speaks correlates with Derek's agitation growing. The word _incestuous_ rings out in his mind like a sharp alarm and Derek jerks away from Peter, straightening and he knows his response is telling.

"Yeah, that's right," Derek says. "You're messed up enough. You don't need you-know-what with your nephew to be on the list of your offenses." Derek rubs at his face for a moment before adding on, "I wanted a breather, that's all. This is a breather."

* * *

It's almost too easy to get under Derek's skin and Peter proves that by one simple word. Oh, he doesn't doubt that the pack is far too busy to be paying attention to them, but the word _incestuous_ is still enough to immediately get Derek jerking like he's been burned. Peter looks at him and watches in quiet satisfaction as Derek straightens and jerks away from him, like mere proximity might be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Granted, the last time Peter had been this close to Derek, it had been with the both of them somewhat aroused and Derek's tension bleeding out of his shoulders, so he can't blame Derek. Still... seeing the way Derek responds is _very_ telling. Peter smirks.

And Derek does seem to try and wrench control back, but the look he gives Peter is almost pitiful in response. Derek accuses him of being messed up (true) and that incest doesn't need to be on his 'list of offenses' (arguable) and Peter doesn't take offense. His eyes darken a little in irritation, perhaps, as hearing Derek say those things so plainly _isn't_ particularly pleasant, but Peter doesn't let it get to him. As with most things, he lets the accusations roll off of his back, uncaring.

"You wanted a breather," Peter says, sounding accepting, which is often the prelude to sarcasm. This is no different. "A breather with _me_. The 'messed-up' uncle?" Peter's eyebrows lift and the look he sends Derek is so sarcastic it's almost scathing. His expression is flat and unimpressed; Peter isn't going to hold his tongue this time.

"Yes, Derek, I can see how that is the only _logical_ conclusion given what happened between us. You isolating yourself on the second floor where the rest of the pack can't see you, with the only one you've let yourself submit to, whilst _reeking_ of stress and claiming you _don't_ want more of what happened before makes _perfect_ sense."

With a derisive scoff, Peter steps away from the wall and turns on his nephew, then reaches out with one hand - a clawed hand - and presses his claws to Derek's chest. It's not a threat, merely a small provocation.

"And if you're going to accuse me of something, at least use the real word. You-know-what is commonly known as _incest_ , nephew. Admittedly not my go-to, but between consenting adults..." Peter shrugs dismissively.

* * *

Derek isn't concerned about the rest of the pack below them possibly hearing this damning conversation. They're happily focused on finding food and not having to pay for it. Derek wonders what that must be like, to be able to throw themselves into the pursuit of pizza, other concerns be damned. Derek isn't often jealous, but sometimes he longs for the days when he'd had his mom or Laura to be in charge. The life of a Beta suited him more than fine.

As per custom, Peters words are not comforting. Peter decides to poke holes in his argument. Of course, that's what Peter does. Pointing out the flaw of bringing Peter up here while stressed and trying to deliver some sort of what, a notice? A warning? The sarcasm is evident in both Peter's tone and words and Derek is simultaneously unimpressed and infuriated because he understands on some level that the situation - when phrased like this - is actually ridiculous.

Derek can't help but stiffen when Peter moves. He still doesn't think he necessarily trusts his uncle. On more than one occasion Derek has seen Peter appear power hungry. If he lets his guard down with Peter, Derek is simply inviting trouble and trouble is exactly what he doesn't--

A clawed hand comes to his chest, but Derek doesn't let Peter push him back. His eyes flash red, he feels anger coiling in his stomach like a viper waiting to strike, but Derek knows an altercation would be heard. He can't act out. He can't let Peter get to him. Too bad for him that's what Peter excels at because Peter effortlessly continues on, dismissive about the whole thing being a big deal.

 _Consenting adults..._ Peter's not wrong, though. Derek had consented to everything last time. Peter can't force him into anything. Derek could - should stop this and yet Derek feels slightly better in some small way with Peter's claws on his chest (which probably just proves that _he_ is also incredibly messed up). Derek clenches his jaw and glances down at Peter's hand. His own lifts to grasp Peter's wrist and he brings Peter's hand up, inviting Peter to wrap it around his throat. Derek's instincts are very displeased by this but he ignores them.

"You playing with me, Peter?" Derek asks lowly, his voice almost a growl. "You want to be the Alpha, don't you? You could take it. Let your claws slash and pay me back."

* * *

The flash of Derek's eyes is enough to draw Peter's attention but despite the way instincts inside of him immediately desire to recoil, he stands his ground. Derek's eyes are a threat perhaps but Peter doesn't acknowledge them. Derek could easily kill him, or could at least throw him out of the window or something equally as unpleasant, but when Peter's claws touch Derek's chest and Derek _doesn't_ try to claw him, that's answer enough. He looks up, his own eyes bleeding into a steely blue that somehow looks almost dismissive or belittling in comparison. Derek's eyes mean power, true. But Peter's mean deception and cunning. Two sides to every coin, so to speak.

Then Derek's hand reaches down and grabs his wrist. A part of Peter _does_ expect Derek to break it, or to squeeze or wrench his arm back and dislocate his shoulder - unimportant things. But instead Derek tightens his hold and then slowly draws Peter's hand up. Not to his lips in order to bite bloody and clean through his hand, but to Derek's throat. Something surprised flickers behind Peter's eyes as he resists and then slowly closes his hand around Derek's throat, his claws biting into Derek's skin.

The taunt is just that, a taunt, and for a brief moment, time _does_ slow. Peter looks at the way his claws appear as they indent against Derek's skin. Derek isn't wrong. One slash, one _win_ and it would be his again. And yes, a part of him _does_ want that. He aches for it like a missing limb, like the glimpse of a long-lost memory. And yet...

And yet. To be an Alpha would be to lose his nephew. Peter's distraction sharpens into the present again and when he looks up at Derek, his expression is somehow both casual and steel at the same time.

"Why would I want to _take_ the Alpha from you? That means the rabble downstairs would be _my_ responsibility. That doesn't sound particularly appealing. Oh, the power might be nice, I'll give you that, but..." Peter shrugs one shoulder and his hand tightens around Derek's throat. With one step, Peter moves into Derek's personal space, either bringing them far too close for comfort, or pushing Derek back against the wall again. "Why suffer the consequences when an Alpha is willing to _submit_ to me? The Alpha of an Alpha, albeit temporarily. That sounds significantly more satisfying to me."

* * *

This is reckless on all accounts. Alphas don't bare their throats to anyone, threat or no threat. He wouldn't do this for Scott or Stiles and he shouldn't do this for Peter. Peter is definitely a threat. Peter may be family, may be his uncle, may even be like a mentor at times, but Peter is also cunning and self-serving. Once, Derek had thought the world of his uncle, looked up to him, but Derek had been an idiot. Back then, he'd only seen what he'd wanted to see. He'd been naive and self-focused (like most kids are, like the pack only sometimes is, at least).

Icy blue eyes meet his own and Derek still finds it horribly ironic that _his_ eyes had changed to blue before Peter's. Peter doesn't back down nor does he submit or wrench his hand away. Derek could kill him. Derek could easily break bone or tear muscle. But Derek isn't interested in breaking bones or tearing muscle. While fighting and being physical brings him an almost restorative calm, it brings Derek no pleasure to actually hurt another (no matter how much they may deserve it).

Peter's claws bite into his skin, but Derek doesn't flinch. Blood isn't drawn. With red eyes, he watches Peter take in the situation. He watches Peter's eyes track downward and consider. Even if Peter _doesn't_ do it, Peter will consider. Derek knows that much. Peter and considering go hand in hand. And then the considering is apparently done and Peter meets his eyes. And Derek knows that the pack below wouldn't _have_ to be Peter's responsibility. Peter could leave them. If anything, they'd want to kill Peter for the perceived betrayal. It would be messy. Far messier than Peter would surely prefer and yet... Doesn't the idea of simply not existing give Derek an ounce of comfort? (Yes.)

The hand squeezes around his throat and Derek only tightens his own affirming grip on Peter's wrist. Peter steps into his space and Derek instinctively steps back. The door greets his back, sturdy and a barrier for this particular conversation that's now turned into an altercation. _The Alpha of an Alpha... Significantly more satisfying..._ The phrases should sicken him. He's not some dancing monkey here to amuse Peter. The red dies from Derek's eyes as the defeat sinks in.

"You ever regret saving me back then?" His tone may be gravelly, but there's definitely a hint of hesitation present. He's never asked, but he's sure Peter will know what he's referring to.

* * *

Peter isn't certain _what_ he's expecting when he begins, but watching as Derek takes a step back to bring him against the solid door is not it. That alone gives Peter far more insight than Derek likely knows. Immediately Peter's gaze sharpens and the grip he has on Derek's throat doesn't falter despite the way Derek's hand has squeezed harder over his own, like he's encouraging Peter to do it, to go further. Peter watches, a calculating look in his eyes as he speaks, and while he does see a small glint of defiance in Derek at first, it fades before long. Then Peter is privy to the slow fading of red from Derek's eyes and he doesn't need to hear Derek's thoughts to sense his defeat.

Downstairs, the pack is none the wiser, sounding excited over the prospect of pizza. Peter hears Derek's name only once, dismissive, and then the pack are left talking about other things as they settle in to wait for the pizza to arrive. Peter spares it a single thought and then turns his attention back to Derek just in time to see the last trace of red fade from his gaze. Then comes a rough question, so cracked around the edges that it's practically fragile, and Peter goes very, very still.

He gets a quick flash of memory. Of blazing blue eyes and a young man's shocked face as he'd fumbled for a gun he'd barely been old enough to hold. The phantom feeling of blood on his claws feels tacky in the moment before Peter draws himself back to the present. He remembers enough.

His grip doesn't tighten but nor does it loosen. He feels the beat of Derek's pulse under his hand, and while defeat is radiating from his nephew like little else, when Peter scents the air, he can scent the guilt and makes the connection to self-loathing. Too long in Derek's head is never a good thing, and it looks like Derek has fallen prey to his own thoughts again.

"Would you be justified in the way you're feeling now if I told you I did?" Peter asks lightly, but there's a hidden edge under it, like a concealed blade. He presses harder on Derek's throat, coaxing Derek's chin up to force him to at least come close to looking Peter in the eyes. Peter makes a point to let the electric blue glint of his _real_ eyes meet the faded hazel of Derek's. It's a statement. "If so, you'll be disappointed. No, Derek. Not then, not since, and not now."

* * *

Peter had saved him and in doing so, Peter had killed an innocent kid in the process. Well, the kid was a hunter, but he hadn't even killed anyone yet (unlike Derek). If Peter hadn't intervened, Derek wouldn't have met Kate Argent shortly after. He wouldn't have enabled her to lock his entire family and pack inside his house and have them burn to death. Peter wouldn't have suffered in a coma. Peter wouldn't have gone off the reserve and then killed Laura. Guilt doesn't have a weight, but it has a very real presence. Its presence is like a second skin that Derek can't claw off. (He's tried.) He can't wash it away. (He's tried.)

He may feel beaten down, but he doesn't stop encouraging Peter to squeeze. In a sick way, the pressure is grounding. Derek's considered suicide, but it's never went far. He feels like he'd be disrespecting his family. They would want him to live (to live _and_ thrive, but one out of two isn't bad). But if Peter killed him... Peter's being the villain. It's just unfortunate. It's not Derek weakly giving up.

Derek doesn't answer the question that Peter asks him - whether or not he'd feel justified. Derek doesn't need justification. He knows what he's done. He knows the death count he carries, both human and werewolf alike. His chin is forced up and Derek simply scowls as best he can (he knows he's not doing it well). Peter's natural blue comes forward and Derek flinches at the answer.

Peter says no, but that answer is concerning _regret_ in saving him. Derek is too afraid of the other questions. Does Peter blame him? Forgive him? Does Peter resent him for what he's done? Would his mom be proud of him now? Should he try harder to make the pack like their old pack used to be? There's far too many questions that zing through Derek's mind and he knows already letting this one slip is going to cost him at some point.

"Bite me," Derek instructs suddenly. "No blood. They'll be able to smell it." This time, he steps closer to Peter, to familiarity and bitterness.

* * *

Peter can't see into the cracks in Derek's mind, but he knows the way one's mind tends to get tangled up in the thoughts one fails to sweep away. He'd had a long six years of it, trapped inside his own head with no company except the nurses who hadn't heard him begging, who had stripped and bathed him and cared for him like the invalid he'd been. Perhaps he can't dig his claws into Derek's mind in order to pry it open for his own perusing, but Peter understands how quickly notions of guilt and dejection can snowball. When he breathes in again and Derek's scent sours even more, Peter tilts his head slowly, thoughtfully. Oh, Derek isn't well at _all_.

Distantly Peter wonders what had brought him to this point, to feebly asking Peter something he would have over a decade ago. A guilty, half-desperate plea for unspoken forgiveness. Somehow realizing that Derek has slipped so far down his own control is somewhat maddening. Peter _wants_ to reach out, to dig his claws in, to shake Derek until he understands and snaps out of his current mood, but as Peter stands there and watches Derek flinch, he wonders how much of it _is_ a mood.

Then Derek's instruction comes and he steps in closer, bold. Peter doesn't step back. He looks up at Derek instead and feels the way his pulse increases under Peter's palm. After a moment, Peter looks down to Derek's throat and then finally he moves his hand away, though Derek's hand _does_ make that difficult.

"I believe you said something about how we wouldn't 'have a repeat'," he points out, but before Derek can withdraw in on himself or flinch away from any potential rejection he could read from those words, Peter's claws grip in Derek's shirt, he wrenches the collar down, and then he lunges.

It _is_ a lunge. One moment he's stationed normally. The next he's got his teeth - human and blunted - pressing deep bruises into the flesh where Derek's shoulder meets his throat. Peter's free hand comes up to tangle and wrench in Derek's hair and he pushes him back against the door again, a low growl rumbling faintly in his throat, almost a warning, almost a reprimand.

* * *

It had been Derek's intention to inform Peter that there wouldn't be another time where lines were crossed. No more slips. No more missteps. No more shameful indiscretions...

And yet he's proving that Peter isn't the only one messed up. Oh, no. Something has been wrong with him for a very long time. Some horrible fear of being alone, some weakness when it came to relationships. He'd clung to Paige desperately, unwilling to stand the idea of her not being like him, of her being fragile and being taken away from him. His own actions had done that, though. His fear and weakness had killed her. Kate... No. He can't think about her. He won't.

Biting. Peter had bit him before and it had felt... Good? It had been a distraction. A distraction is good at least. Because Derek can't fathom going back down and listening to the pack excitedly talk about pizza and kindly inform him how they probably decided to get one pizza for each person so no one felt left out. He can't even fault Peter's last quip. Derek had tried to end things before they even had began and, imagine that, he's failed. Derek doesn't bother with a response. There will be at least one more repeat apparently. When Peter's hand relocates itself to his collar, Derek drops his own down.

No warning is given as Peter practically springs at him and bites. There's no fangs (good) but human teeth still hurt like a bitch. It doesn't matter if his body heals, it doesn't matter if he's a Beta or Alpha, pain still hurts. It hurts to get stabbed or shot and it stings when Peter bites to bruise (not that they will last). Peter's hand finds its way back into

Derek's hair and then Derek finds himself pinned back against the door. He hears the soft growl that Peter gives and Derek answers with his own rumble of one as his arms wrap around Peter's waist and loop behind to hold him tightly (it might actually be him clinging to Peter).

* * *

Derek's skin tastes like salt under Peter's lips. Biting as hard as he does, he feels the give of the top layer of soft skin and the resistance of the layers underneath. He feels the threads of muscle bunching as if in protest and the strong line of tendon that he'd have to really get his fangs into in order to snap properly. Peter's killed like this before, human and animal, and the instances flash back at him briefly. Killing like this is a non-sexual but intimate act and while Peter has no intention of letting his fangs out or letting his control slip, he can't deny that this is also non-sexual and intimate. His lips may be on Derek's skin and his teeth may be digging in hard, but this isn't sexual. This is grounding and he can _feel_ it.

Derek's knees crumple as Peter shoves him back and when Peter growls, Derek does too, but it sounds less threatening and more desperate. Peter bites harder until he can taste the sharp tang of warning that if he bites any harder he'll split the skin. Only then does Derek reach out to loop his arms around Peter's waist. Peter feels it, feels the tension, and then feels the way Derek's hands curl into the fabric of his shirt. Derek is clinging. Peter spares that a thought as that does mean more than it should.

He doesn't let himself falter. His eyes bleed their bright electric blue again and Peter marvels in the tension in his jaw as he uses his teeth as a makeshift lash, as if he could excise Derek's inward agony with his teeth alone. But he can't.

So instead Peter bites. He curls his hand tightly in Derek's hair and pulls his head to the side, letting him feel the strain as he crowds himself up into Derek's space, presses him bodily against the door and breathes in the sharper scents from this close.

"Match your breathing to mine. Focus on me, Derek," Peter growls in the one time he lifts the force of his bite just so he can watch the bruise begin to heal. Then, before it can make much progress, he leans back in and bites again, just as hard.

* * *

A clasp around the shoulder, a pat on the back, a hug or high five... Such touches had been common growing up and within his family. Physical affection had never been withheld, but this? Clinging is what children do after nightmares or after they fall. They cling onto parents, onto siblings, onto uncles. It's what he'd done while crying and sniveling and worked up. Derek doesn't cry much now. Crying doesn't help. It doesn't solve anything. It doesn't bring back the dead. He's not crying now.

Peter is firm and warm. Despite the space and tense relationship that has existed between them since Peter had returned (both times), Peter is somehow still familiar to him. Perhaps it's their old pack bond, perhaps it's because they're family. Derek doesn't know and he's not going to ask right now. His hold is tight, his fingers gripping at Peter's shirt. Peter doesn't snort nor does he pull away. Peter remains steady and unyielding and Derek does feel the bliss of distraction work its way through him.

It hurts, but Derek is used to it. Kate had been more cruel than this with her torture. Derek's head is pulled to the side and Peter only comes closer, body flush against his own. Derek can hear Peter scenting him and at first Derek thinks Peter is looking for signs of arousal, but no, Peter is likely trying to discern if his stress has died down at all. Stress is sour and it lingers. Derek understands. But as quickly as it had begun, the bite ends and Peter pulls his mouth away and speaks up. Derek has the urge to scoff at the direction, but he remembers how it had helped him last time...

Derek doesn't comply immediately nor does Peter immediately bite again. Derek can feel his skin working on mending itself and then - yes, of course - Peter bites once more and Derek hisses. It's for a few seconds that he inwardly struggles before his ears pick up on Peter's breathing, on his pulse (slightly faster). Derek's eyes slide shut. He exhales once, he tightens his grip and he matches Peter's breathing.

One more repeat.

* * *

There are walls that one builds around them when agony and grief become impossible to discard. Walls aim to protect, to fortify, to hide the issue behind a stronger structure than the weakness might be capable of offering. Yet walls do fortify and walls do protect. This isn't always beneficial to the one suffering and as Peter takes in the way Derek's eyes have dimmed, the way he's slowly sinking deeper and deeper into defeat, he knows that it's the walls he must rip down in order to get at the root of the problem. So he does.

He bites, he grips his hand in Derek's hair tightly and pulls enough to hurt. He uses pain as a grounding point as his nose wrinkles at the force of his bite. The desire to push, to take, to _force_ Derek's pain into the side in order to truly get right at the source of his issues is almost impossible to ignore. The desire to bite harder, to sink his fangs in, to make Derek bleed is also there, but it's a feral desire, a desire to ground and heal from one wolf to another.

Derek doesn't protest, though he doesn't immediately do what Peter had told him to. It takes him time to decide if he _wants_ to comply and when he finally does, his breath shuddering and awkward, he struggles to focus on Peter, struggles to match his breathing to Peter's. But he does it. He does it and Peter growls lowly under his breath, a pleased sound that he makes in order to send the vibrations intentionally along Derek's skin. It's one thing to hear satisfaction but quite another to _feel_ it. And as Derek's breathing begins to steady, as the arms around Peter tighten to the point of discomfort, Peter breathes in Derek's scent deeply and tastes the stress beginning to recede.

His fingers reaffirm their grip in Derek's hair, but this time it's less of a violent yank and more of a slow rake of human nails through Derek's hair. Peter grips his fingers into it to ground him, but with Derek's arms around him, it doesn't take Peter long to reach up and loop his other arm around Derek's neck. Yet despite the intimacy of the position, he doesn't cling. He lets Derek do that. His free hand goes right for Derek's nape and Peter grips at it, squeezing hard but not hard enough to be painful. Just hard enough to make his point known as he attempts to chase Derek's demons away from his throat.

* * *

One more repeat. One more mistake. One more moment of weakness. Why not? Peter already knows the worst of him, so why not let that list expand? This is what Derek tells himself. Peter had been right last time. How he is, how he's been acting... Derek couldn't let any of the pack see him like this. He wouldn't. He can't imagine himself Scott or Stiles or Isaac or even Erica holding him. He doesn't let himself get overly chummy with any of them. Derek doesn't know how to be an Alpha _and_ a friend. He hadn't planned on any of this.

Scott had been bitten and Derek had known that he'd need to do something. He'd need to help, but he'd been a Beta himself and he hadn't wanted to try and mentor a stupid teenager (who didn't listen to him half the time anyway). Things have only become more complicated. The pack has increased - by his doing - but Derek doesn't feel like he's gotten better at leading or providing for them.

Right now it's evident Peter is providing for _him_. _The Alpha of an Alpha..._ It's insulting, but as Peter pulls his hair, as Peter bites, the resulting hiss Derek gives does distract Derek. And as he matches his uncle's breathing, Peter gives a pleased growl that he can _feel_ and Derek relaxes a little more. It feels good to be doing good. It's such a simple thing. He shouldn't want to please Peter or get such an affirmation, but in this, it seems easier and almost rewarding. (And _easier_ isn't par for the course... It's never been--)

Human nails scratch through his hair and Derek hears himself give a soft groan. With his eyes closed, with Peter's heat and the throb of the bite, Derek does feel better. Peter's other hand comes up to grasp the back of his neck and Derek pushes into the touch, nothing but encouraging. Nothing is fixed, but Derek's thoughts seem quieter. Gradually, his hold loses some of its desperation.

"When they leave... Do you want me to..." Derek begins awkwardly. He figures he owes Peter. Nothing is free. He can suck it up and jerk Peter off or blow him.

* * *

Bit by bit Derek's tension eases. It's not quick. It's slow going and yet Peter does bask in it. The power that Derek is giving him is one thing, yes, but there _is_ another that feels almost possessive as it curls through Peter's chest. Perhaps he and Derek haven't been close as of late. Perhaps they've lost some of the familiarity they'd had when Derek had been a teenager.

But there are traces of it lingering on the edges. Fire cauterizes everything, even pack bonds, even fondness and favor. Yet despite the cauterization, as Peter bites and feels the relaxation beginning to ease into Derek's body, he can't say that he's not pleased that Derek's demons are being driven out.

He doesn't pretend that he doesn't enjoy the power he's given. While Peter isn't an Alpha, having one _beg_ him, having one _need_ something from him, having an Alpha _submit_ to him is almost as good. It feels like warmth and strength and energy burning under his skin, but with it comes something... else. Something that feels disconcertingly like responsibility. And given the way Derek has been clinging to him, given the way he groans softly and begins to relax against Peter, it's fairly obvious why.

Peter doesn't stop, though. He coaxes Derek through this wave of despondency. He's careful to monitor him. His pulse, his breathing, his tension, his scent. Only when Peter feels like everything has sunk back down into 'normal' levels does he finally, reluctantly ease up in the force of his bite.

Derek's shoulder is deep red, the bruise bleeding out into the surrounding skin. For the few seconds it's there, it looks lurid, like it had been mere seconds from bleeding, but as Peter watches, Derek's healing begins to kick in again, begins to wipe away the traces of physical injury. Peter's sorry to see it go.

Yet when Derek speaks, when he awkwardly suggests what he does, Peter turns his attention to Derek again. He sees a spark of something like resignation in Derek's eyes, and he knows without a doubt that he _could_ push for something like that now. Derek would allow it. Derek would sit back and let him do it. And yet... Peter wets his lips. His hand doesn't leave Derek's nape.

"When they leave, you're going to get the leftover pizza and bring it up here, to your bedroom. You're going to gather the blankets you have in the house and bring them there too, and then you're going to come and get me."

* * *

According to Peter, incest between two consenting adults isn't a big deal. Derek's not so sure. _Incestuous_. The word still makes something inside of him wince, but he supposes it's hardly the worst thing out there. At least it's not in born-werewolf culture - healing negates any possible biological abnormalities within a fetus. In packs, it's not unheard of for cousins to be mates, especially as certain packs can last generations. Derek knows that incest is more _tolerated_ than accepted within packs, but in the human world, not so much...

 

Whatever marks Peter has left him, they're long gone and healed and there's no evidence of what they'd just done. There's no pain, but strangely, there is a phantom feeling of Peter's teeth... Other than the tattoo burnt onto his back of his own volition, Derek is free of scars. The outside continues to mend, to heal. His shell, the outer layer displayed, remains appealing and attractive. Unmarred. Derek looks young and virile. But on the inside? Derek is convinced there is a whole lot of darkness dwelling down there. His own reservoir of wolfsbane-laced water that he can take a sip of whenever.

But not right now. Despite the content of his question and the implication, Derek does feel better. That's why Derek finds it in himself to offer what he does. Some form of repayment. He's not disgusted by the offer. Instead, Derek finds himself more wary and weirded out. Peter looks at him, considers and Derek doesn't back down. He's already said it. He's already asked. There is no saving face. Peter would hardly allow such a thing.

Derek gives a stiff nod at the instructions given. He doesn't know what's going to happen with Peter after but Derek can figure it out. He'll be fine. It's just something sexual. Derek is absolutely fine and experienced with casual sexual encounters anyway.

For a few seconds longer, Derek is still. Then it's rather obvious he's done with this and softly shoves Peter away. He sorts his shirt out and Derek nods again, swallowing and rubbing at this face as in disbelief over what's just transpired. He leaves first and the rest of them fill him in about the pizza situation. Derek gives a shrug and a noncommittal grunt as he grabs a beer from the fridge and pops the tab open.

Far too many boxes arrive in ten minutes and the food does wonders for morale. Everyone seems more easygoing (and Peter stays on the outskirts). Derek bitterly wonders if he's just going to have ply them with free food every meeting. Isaac and Stiles help clean up which is nice, but Derek is in no rush to head back upstairs with an undisclosed number of blankets and leftovers.

Twenty minutes later, when the loft is vacated save for them, Derek steels himself. He gathers a box of pizza and a few extra blankets (assuming Peter just wants the extra comfort because he's a princess). He knows his uncle has meandered up to his room while the half-assed cleanup occured. On one hand it's nice that Peter is already there so Derek doesn't have to 'come and get him' but that means Peter gets to watch him balance everything.

Still, Derek manages it easily and as soon as he enters his room (dark, only illuminated by the large windows allowing moonlight to stream in), he drops off the box on his dresser and flings the blankets onto his bed. Peter of course is standing in front of the windows, looking effortlessly dramatic and Derek doesn't even bother to roll his eyes. He strips off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He figures he might as well be comfortable.

"Pizza. Blankets. They're here."

* * *

It's a simple matter to return to business as usual. Peter meanders back downstairs after Derek does and the pack is none the wiser. They're awash with the excitement of 'free' pizza (Peter doesn't let it irritate him that technically the money doesn't even belong to Derek, though the pack likely assumes it does) and Derek re-integrates with them seamlessly. His tension is evident to Peter, who comfortably situates himself on his preferred outskirts, but no one else seems to notice. Isaac does look over thoughtfully once or twice, but when Stiles offers to drive him and Scott back to Scott's place later, his focus is halved and Isaac turns away. Peter looks at Derek.

He spends the remainder of the meeting watching Derek on and off, watching the look in his eyes, the way he hardly picks at his food unless someone is visibly watching him. Maybe Derek feels better than he did, but Peter doesn't like what he's seeing. It doesn't escape his reasoning that all he'd need to do at this point would be to lull Derek into a false sense of security and _take_ the Alpha from him. A part of him is tempted. The part of him that had raged and panicked once hasn't truly faded the way he'd have liked, but stealing Derek's power leaves a less-than-pleased taste in his mouth.

Peter _does_ care about his nephew, after all. If he's still capable of love - if he _ever_ was - he thinks he loves Derek as much as his love for Derek aligns with his plans for self-preservation and longevity. Peter doesn't actually want him dead. Oh, he wants the power, but the thought of earning it by killing Derek? That's not something Peter is willing to do. (He doesn't think about how that _hadn't_ been reciprocated.)

When the pack finally begin to leave, Peter stands silently and wanders back upstairs, walking to Derek's room. It's dark there, difficult to see, but Peter simply blinks his eyes blue and settles in to wait by the window.

It doesn't take long for Derek to follow him upstairs. Peter turns back, highlighted by the moonlight coming in through the window, and he lets his eyes bleed back to normal. He looks at the pizza, then at the blankets that Derek had thrown on the bed. When he looks back, it's to the sight of Derek shirtless, which, admittedly _is_ a pleasant sight. Peter's gaze lingers for a moment before he blinks and the spell is broken.

Walking over to Derek's bed, Peter takes a moment to arrange the blankets in a crude circle of sorts, then walks to the pizza. With a snap of his fingers, he points back at the bed as he moves the pizza onto Derek's bedside table.

"Splendid. Lay on the bed, in the middle of the blankets, and if you can bring yourself to trust me enough to do it, close your eyes. If not, no harm done. Merely a preference."

* * *

Derek doesn't know what to expect here. He knows what he's okay with. He's okay with giving a handjob or a blowjob to Peter. He's okay even fucking Peter if Peter feels so inclined, but he's definitely not on board for _him_ getting fucked. Derek has done it once (seemed only fair to experience it on both ends at least) but it hadn't been an overly pleasant experience and he's definitely not looking for a repeat in such an area.

Peter, always one to not be rushed, doesn't answer him immediately and instead his eyes linger on him. Derek does nothing but stand and let Peter drink his fill (if that's even what Peter is doing, it's hard to know). Peter decides to be dramatic, choosing to answer nonverbally as he strides to the bed and arranges the blankets for no discernible reason (at least according to Derek). It gets ridiculous when Peter snaps his fingers and then gives out a command like he's a dog.

Derek shoots Peter an unimpressed look before he does move to the bed in even steps. He's not backing down from this. He looks down at the bed, at the waiting blankets and gives a disgruntled sigh as he climbs on, deciding to lay on his side after grabbing a pillow to shove under his head. Derek closes his eyes because he doesn't need his sight to be able to keep track of Peter anyway. Derek can hear. He takes in a steadying breath.

"Don't know how I'm supposed to do anything with my eyes closed," Derek comments.

* * *

It's rather telling that Derek believes he understands what to expect. Peter watches the mutinous look Derek sends him, but to be fair and respectful to his nephew, Derek doesn't actually deny Peter his request. He's clearly unhappy with what's happening and yet he doesn't protest. Instead, under Peter's direction, Derek does wander over to the bed and after a moment in which he seems to study it like it could feasibly bite him, he climbs onto it. Peter nods, satisfied, and opens the box of pizza, glancing inside with a casual air. It's mostly cold by now, but even Peter knows that cold pizza has its place.

Peter walks over to the door of Derek's room and takes a moment to check that it's locked. When he looks back, he's honestly pleasantly surprised to see Derek's eyes shut. He's undoubtedly tracking Peter's movements given the way his head twitches when Peter walks in behind the bed again, but the show of even self-destructive trust is a nice touch. Fortunately for Derek, Peter isn't in the mood to ruin that. Not today, at least.

"Thankfully it's not _up_ to you to do anything. Not unless I say so," Peter says smoothly, and after a moment in which he briefly studies the triskelion tattoo on Derek's back, he takes one of the blankets he'd bunched up and shifts it over, folding it up against Derek's back. After only a half a second, while Derek is undoubtedly still uncertain, Peter eases himself down into a seated position on the bed beside Derek, pinning the blanket against his back. Peter half-carelessly drapes the rest of it over Derek and immediately what had been a haphazard pile of blankets has become a sort of nest.

Peter reaches one hand over for the box of pizza while the other one goes down to press and curl against Derek's nape, just as it had been before. With the other, he lifts a piece of pizza over and sets it down against the back of one of Derek's hands.

"Eat. You might have fooled those children downstairs, but I still know you enough to know when you're _pretending_ to eat. So eat it and then we'll continue."

* * *

Derek has never been one to enjoy sprawling out and laying around. His bed serves a purpose. He sleeps here (only when he's downright exhausted). He fucks here (only casual hookups, no questions asked, no repeats). He passes out here (from having his ass kicked one too many times). But laying here now... Derek isn't beaten down or exhausted. He has nothing to do but wait for Peter. It's now Derek thinks that his mattress is actually pretty comfortable. It's not overly soft, but firm. It's a weird realization to be having on his own _bed,_ but he can't help it.

But Derek isn't so relaxed that he doesn't pay attention to Peter's movements. Derek focuses his hearing on Peter. He hears his uncle meander over to the bedroom door (steps lighter) and check if it's locked. Derek tries to not to think what that could mean. He tracks Peter as he comes to the bed but then Peter is talking and giving Derek something else to focus on. Which is mostly useless because Peter is not giving anything away. And then Derek's eyebrows lift as Peter actually starts positioning blankets over him - tucking him in? Derek doesn't want to think about it. Peter comes to sit next to him and it's when the scent of pizza intensifies and a hand comes to his nape that Derek's eyes open.

A piece of pizza is handed over to him and Derek stares at it incredulously. Apparently Peter wants him to eat. Nothing further will happen unless he eats. It has the potential to be an out, but Derek wouldn't pull that. He offered. He's going to see it through. He can at least do this much right. (And what does Derek think about Peter knowing him like this? What does he feel knowing that Peter had been watching him? He doesn't know.)

The hold on his neck is, once again, comforting. Derek takes the offered slice and eats it with no word. He's quick, like this is simply an objective he must get through. Derek isn't surprised to be handed another slice after the first one is finished.

Once he's done the second piece, with some effort involved given the blanketing situation, Derek turns around to face his uncle. It's hard to feel like an adult _or_ the Alpha when he's wrapped up in blankets so he purposefully throws one off.

"Now what?" It's a demand - or it's meant one - but only a little agitation bleeds into his tone.

* * *

Peter is expecting Derek's protests, so there's no part of him that is particularly _surprised_ when Derek seems so surprised at the notion of what Peter is suggesting. Derek just stares and Peter waits in a mockery of patience. Thankfully whatever standoff that exists between them is quick to fade out and while Derek clearly doesn't understand or _like_ Peter's orders, he eventually gives in. Peter watches him as he snaps up the first slice of pizza like he hardly tastes it, like it's merely a chore to be done. Peter hadn't actually told him to _enjoy_ it so he lets it slide. He simply squeezes Derek's nape and when he offers Derek the second piece in silence, Derek complies without needing to be told.

Two is apparently Derek's limit, though. After two, even as Peter is contemplating a third, Derek suddenly begins to fidget. Peter lifts his hand and Derek is quick to squirm around to face him instead. While Derek undoubtedly does it to wrest more control back (given the way he throws off the blanket) Peter merely looks down at him. Derek looks agitated, a hint of something like anger and suspicion in his eyes as he demands to know what's next.

Peter contemplates the situation, idly looking at Derek's slightly-mussed hair and mutinous expression. There's a smudge of pizza sauce at the very corner of Derek's lip and it does a very good job at lessening his threat, at least visually. Peter hums dismissively, like he has all the time in the world to decide. Then he reaches his hand down again and slowly curls his fingers in Derek's hair. He grips and pulls just enough to feel the first bite of pain, because Derek will never accept this without _some_ show of force.

Then Peter moves, twisting at his hips as he presses a palm flat to Derek's bare chest. He leans down without preamble and before Derek can properly protest (Peter _does_ like the element of surprise) he presses his lips to Derek's in a kiss that definitely isn't chaste - owing to the swipe of his tongue and quick bite at his lower lip - but also isn't unthinkably deep. The kiss isn't quick and over, though. Peter lets it linger, as this _is_ one thing he hadn't done the first time. Oh, he'd bitten Derek all over, he'd mockingly kissed his nape, but not this. _This_ feels enough like a payment to him that Derek might accept it as even. Frankly, he doubts Derek is in _any_ mind to do what he'd suggested.

When Peter pulls away from the kiss, he wets his lips, tastes the markedly non-seductive tang of pizza, and then straightens again. He quickly throws the blanket back over Derek, but then uses his hand in Derek's hair to guide (read: pull) him over close enough for Derek's cheek to rest against his lap.

" _Now_ ," Peter says conversationally. "You're going to lay there until the ridiculous notion of repaying me with sexual favors leaves that thick skull of yours. You _are_ still pack, Derek. Not everything has an ulterior motive."

* * *

Derek isn't going to let himself think too deeply over the fact that Peter had been watching him and decided to take it upon himself to ensure that he did eat. Derek hadn't felt overly hungry with the chatty kids so he _had_ picked at his food and only ate when one of them directed a question or comment his way. It's not that Derek is trying to punish himself (at least not in this manner). He knows he needs to keep his calories up to maintain his strength and physique. Derek finds a measure of calm running in the woods and working his body to a state of exhaustion. He can't imagine giving those activities up if he decided to enact some hunger strike.

Sometimes it's difficult to care about himself though. Self-care has never been high on his list and it's reflected in his non-flashy clothing, how he only has a few styles of shirts that are just different muted colors. His loft is less than homey and he's done nothing to really fix that. The pack had dragged up another sofa and few chairs so seating is no longer an issue, but other than that, it's only stocked with the bare essentials and it suits Derek just fine. He's not here to impress anyone. This isn't his home. This is where he sleeps. This is where he fucks. This is where the pack meets up. And now it's where Peter is going to be repaid.

Peter looks down at him. Derek only half-glares in response. He'd rather get this done and over with. Prolonging the inevitable has never been an enjoyable thing for him. Peter gives a useless hum before fingers curl into his hair. Peter grips, Derek notes the pulling but allows it. Peter isn't the type to play at sweet and soft (but then what had transpired earlier? Peter had let him cling--)

Now, however, Peter leans down and outright kisses him and Derek is stunned. He does nothing at first and Peter presses his advantage, tongue and teeth coming into play even. Derek still does nothing, but he doesn't push Peter away. He doesn't stop it. Maybe this is what Peter wants? If it is, it's not that taxing. Peter kissing him is hardly that bad. And then Peter pulls away. Before Derek can ask if that's all, Peter is throwing the blanket back on him and pulling him back down, pulling his head down into a lap even.

This is absolutely worse than the kissing. Derek is tense but he remains under the blanket, his head now in Peter's lap. He's debating the merits of just blowing this whole thing off. If Peter doesn't want a sexual favor, that's good, no skin off his back but...

It's not necessarily bad. "You feeling sorry for me?" Derek gripes. Antagonizing seems safer than the alternative and Derek doesn't know if he can believe Peter... Peter and ulterior motives go hand in hand.

* * *

The kiss hadn't been _bad_ , but that's not really the point. Oh, sure, Peter _would_ be down for more were the situation different. But despite his antagonistic nature and how much he enjoys seeing people struggle, he's not actually into the idea of pressing his advantage to an extreme. He's fine with people resisting him; Peter likes a challenge, and people who needlessly throw themselves at him in any way are simply boring. But there exists a fine line between flirtation-and-coaxing, and outright blackmail or coercion, or worse. Derek might not be drunk, or under the effects of wolfsbane or anything else, but he's certainly not in his proper frame of mind.

Peter doesn't _really_ care, or at least he doesn't want to. But something about Derek's explicit lack of care just... rankles. So Peter does kiss him, and it _is_ a somewhat-enjoyable experience. He's under no illusion that his nephew isn't attractive, but Derek hadn't kissed back, or even put up a protest, and frankly that's proof enough for Peter. Unless Derek can growl and shove at him, threaten him, or actually respond, Peter isn't interested.

So Peter pulls Derek onto his lap. He can tell immediately that doing so helps in _some_ way because Derek tenses and then begins to mutter, and _any_ attitude is better than none. Peter looks down at him, his fingers still curled in Derek's hair, and he lifts an eyebrow casually, then nods, _almost_ flippant, but skirting the line.

"Absolutely. Well... perhaps not _sorry_ for you, as that implies a level of accountability on my part, but am I pitying you? Yes." Peter's grip in Derek's hair tightens. "Pleasant as I'm sure sexual favors would feel, I'm not really interested in the idea of a living doll. Plus, frankly your self-loathing reeks."

It's an exaggeration, of course, but Peter's not _wrong_. Guilt has a particularly sour scent, and Derek's is strong right now. It makes Peter's instincts feel a little... tight. A little frayed, in a way that might threaten to make him irritable down the road. Clearly keeping Derek calm has an advantage for him too.

* * *

Should. Derek _should_ stop this. Could. Derek _could_ stop this. Can. Derek _can_ stop this. Derek should put a stop to this pretend offer of care and comfort. Derek should. Derek could wrench himself away from Peter and throw Peter out. Derek could. Derek can. He's strong enough. He's the Alpha. Should. Could. Can. A mantra he doesn't want to listen to. A mantra he doesn't want to be aware of.

But he doesn't do any of it and Derek knows he won't. He wants to cling onto his annoyance. Onto his frustration. Onto his aggravation. Those feelings are easier to possess. The alternative is unsettling.

He is allowing this. His head is in Peter's lap. Peter's fingers are in his hair. There's a blanket on him. Derek's hands form into fists. The answer Peter gives is not well-received and the idea of Peter _pitying_ him is far worse than feeling sorry for him. Pity is for weak sad things that should be put out of their misery. The fingers in his hair grip harder. It doesn't distract Derek from the comment about his self-loathing reeking. Derek closes his eyes tightly. If he concentrates hard enough, he can block this current situation from his mind. He can imagine himself somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Derek remembers his mother holding him, rocking him. His ear would be pressed against her chest and he'd listen to her steady heart rate. She didn't hold him often, only when he was really upset. Like after he'd killed Paige and she'd soothed him, ensuring that he was still loved and a part of the family and pack - even with his bright blue eyes. His eyes are red now, but Peter's are blue like his had been and once upon a time Peter had killed to save him, but who is this Peter now? Friend or foe? Somewhere in between? Derek tries to relax himself because Peter will likely comment about it and Derek doesn't want any more observations directed his way.

So Derek exhales slowly. He wants to run. He wants to train. He wants to blow off steam. These are all usual responses in dealing with stress. But perhaps laying here isn't so bad. He can feel a part of himself pleased at the proximity and closeness of a packmate, the draw to let his guard down is there, but Derek doesn't know if he can live with the idea of Peter comforting him.

"We're messed up," Derek says.

* * *

There's nothing worse to Derek than being pitied. It's precisely why Peter says what he does. His nephew is prone to spending countless hours mucking around in that cage of self-loathing in his mind, and while they no longer hold the trust between them for Derek to be _able_ to let his guard down around Peter, pissing him off is a close second. If he's angry, he's not wallowing, and if he's not wallowing, he's present. So despite the flare of indignation he can smell, Peter is pleased by it. Maybe he can't comfort Derek the way he once could (does he even _want_ to anymore, or is he so burned...) but this is an acceptable second.

But instead of wrenching away from him and snarling for him to leave (which Peter half-expects) Derek seems to take the accusation of pity as a personal challenge. Peter says nothing as he watches Derek struggle to wrench his anger and loathing back inside. Admittedly it's not ideal, but until they can find trust - if that _ever_ happens - this is what Peter can do for Derek. That he wants to do anything at all is still a numb surprise, particularly given that this holds no bearing on power. Peter isn't sure how he feels about that, but he's sure it's not good. He is anything but soft, but Derek's defeat had been... rankling.

So he listens, gripping Derek's hair casually as his nephew struggles to get himself back under control. Miraculously, and much to Peter's surprise, bit by bit he feels anger and tension and guilt easing out of Derek's body. He carefully scents the air, mindful of the way the guilt begins to recede. It doesn't leave entirely; Peter's vaguely sure that Derek's mostly held together by guilt, and if it _all_ left, he'd fall apart. But it leaves enough for Peter to count this as a victory.

Derek's comment comes after such a drawn-out silence that Peter's snort of laughter is entirely involuntary. He blinks, frowns at himself, but dismisses it easily enough. Smile easing its way back onto his lips, Peter reclines back against Derek's headboard and finally the grip in Derek's hair lessens. Peter cards his fingers through it, a light tousle at first, akin to the way he used to muss Derek's hair when he'd been younger. Then he lightly scratches his nails through it, tentatively. It's something his own mother had done for him.

"Duly noted, and agreed," Peter says airily. "You're still tense. Which I suppose is understandable. So let me propose this: for the next, oh... four hours, let's say, consider this a truce. I won't lift a claw to you unless you ask me to, no plots, no plans. Just this. After that," Peter adds, with a small curl of amusement in his voice, "we'll discuss the wolf on the territory and I promise to be suitably scathing and make up for lost time. Deal?"

* * *

Everything they've been doing is messed up. Derek may be a lot of things, but he's not into lying to himself. He knows he'd gotten hard from Peter pinning him down. Objectively, his uncle is attractive enough. He's never blatantly thought about him - at least not until their first indiscretion. Derek remembers the burn of Peter's claws, the sting of his bite. He remembers Peter being rough and he remembers Peter teasing him. It hadn't been all bad, is the thing. There is something twisted and alive that's between them, something Derek can't see or fight. And Derek doesn't know if it's always been there or if he's been the catalyst to it coming into existence. Have all his decisions, all his weaknesses, brought this? Probably.

The once strained distance between them is crumbling. Is this better, though? Keeping Peter at a distance had been safer, surely, but Peter hadn't clawed his throat open hours earlier. But perhaps it wouldn't have been dramatic enough for Peter. Maybe Peter wants to lull him into a false sense of security and then attack. He knows Peter wants to be an Alpha. Peter has always enjoyed power and control, but how sane is Peter now after everything? Burned and locked in his mind for years, Peter had become an abomination of a werewolf in Derek's eyes. Dead? Semi-dead? Derek doesn't know. How does that effect Peter? How does coming back to life change a person? Does it fill them with hope because of a second chance? Derek doesn't think so. Peter doesn't seem like the hopeful type.

His comment has Peter giving a surprised snort of laughter that Derek doesn't _want_ to be slightly relieved by (but he is). Derek feels Peter settle slightly and the grip changes into fingers brushing through his hair which is actually nice. The scratch of nails is a bit more complicated as it has a shiver racing down his spine and a slight stirring of arousal that he staunchly ignores. It's not his fault his body likes certain things.

When Peter speaks, Derek listens to the proposed course of action. Four hours. Doing nothing. Laying here in Peter's lap. Unless he asks for Peter's claws? Yeah, no. If he does lie here, they can discuss the werewolf. "Fine, just this. Four hours," Derek agrees. The instructions are easy enough. His bed is comfortable. He can do this. It's not a big deal.

* * *

It's a bit of a risky suggestion, if only because anything Peter says he can and will be subject to Derek's current level of suspicion. Peter can't blame him, really. It makes sense. Peter hasn't been the most stable man lately and any suspicion on Derek's part will just mean he's no fool. Still... that doesn't really change the fact that this whole moment depends on Derek getting out of the spiral he's shoved himself in. So Peter proposes something simple, and while a part of him is expecting Derek to scoff and turn him down, when Derek _doesn't_ , Peter is suitably pleased.

But just because he's pleased doesn't mean that he misses the scent between them. Guilt has begun to fade, but when Peter's nails drag over Derek's scalp? Well... he's filing that one away. Perhaps it's a gentler touch that Derek needs... but he's getting ahead of himself. For now, letting Derek rest and hopefully reset the demons in his mind is most important. If Derek had been bleak enough to ask Peter about _before_ , when his eyes had changed blue, he's much worse off than anyone in the pack can tell.

Derek accepts, and Peter's reward is another scratch of his nails over Derek's scalp, slower, with just a hint of intent. Just because this isn't the time doesn't mean that Peter has no desire to press his luck. Learning Derek won't cost him anything in the long run. It might actually be a good thing; besides, the scent of arousal is significantly more pleasant than the sour scent of guilt. But again, despite Peter's curiosity, that isn't really the scope of this moment. This moment is for Derek, and considering how bull-headed his nephew can be, Peter's not about to waste this opportunity.

"Wonderful. Now, close your eyes, if you will. Focus on my scent. On my breathing. On my touch. All instinctual, of course, but sometimes thinking about it makes it easier to do. I'm not certain what's been going through your mind today, nor will I ask in the interest of our truce. But I'm still pack, and you're still an Alpha. And it's not like you could go to the others and ask them for this. So take advantage of it. I'll save any disparaging comments for later."

* * *

Apparently Derek is doing this. He's going to just lie here and allow Peter to what, stroke his hair? Comfort him? Not quite hold him? It doesn't make much sense, but Peter is apparently going to go through these motions of caring packmate, or something resembling that. Even when they'd been close - before any of the real bad shit had gone down - Peter hadn't been known for being exceptionally _caring._ Peter had cared, but in his own ways. In sometimes cruel ways. For example, Peter wasn't above letting any of them learn the hard way. Even if he knew they could get hurt or would likely fail, he usually let them go on their merry way and get into trouble.

Derek supposes that some lessons likely made more of an impact that way. His mom had often been busy with pack-related things, so Peter had sometimes stepped up. No one wanted to consider it _babysitting_. Derek had preferred to think of his uncle as a friend than an adult feeling somewhat obligated to watch him.

Peter continues scratching softly and slow. It's somewhat tantalizing. The simple action is both relaxing and enticing and Derek feels his body conflicted by the sensation, but he chooses to try and be relaxed. Four hours is a long time to be pent up. Derek can easily find someone to hookup with later or even just jerk off. Sex and orgasms aren't anything special, but getting off regularly is healthy for the mind and body.

Peter's voice draws him back. More instructions or are they suggestions? Derek is unsure. He's not entirely certain he _wants_ to be focusing on Peter's scent and breathing. On his _touch..._ But it had helped earlier and if he's going to lay here and appease Peter, no harm in trying... Derek focuses his hearing on the beat of Peter's pulse, on his inhales and exhales, on the near mesmerizing scratch of nails along his scalp. Derek's not intending to, but as he focuses and decides to mentally count Peter's heartbeats, he eventually falls asleep.

* * *

Peter doesn't rush Derek, doesn't push. That wouldn't get him anywhere, and it certainly wouldn't get _Peter_ anywhere in the long run. He's not entirely certain what he's intending to get to begin with, but he doesn't think that matters right now. What matters _now_ is his nephew. Perhaps their loyalty has been skewed, perhaps they're not close to one another as they were before, but when Peter watches Derek begin to settle as he'd been told to, he can't help but feel slightly proud. Derek clearly doesn't really want to, doesn't feel comfortable with it, but that's why this is important.

Even if it's just Peter who understands, if this is something that's going to continue (and according to the way Derek is settling under his hand, it is) Derek's going to have to eventually feel comfortable with him. This is as good a first step as any.

They don't talk. Derek goes quiet, and Peter basks in the almost alien sensation of another wolf voluntarily sharing his space. He doesn't let himself think about how having Derek settling down against him actually makes _his_ instincts more settled, and as the minutes slowly tick on, he feels Derek settling more and more. It doesn't take him long from there to finally fall asleep, and Peter doesn't dare move or stop stroking Derek's hair until his hand has started to protest about an hour later.

Glancing at his watch, then down at Derek, Peter deems it safe. He slowly reaches down, testing whether or not Derek is deeply asleep by grabbing Derek's phone. Peter switches the volume off, then takes his own phone out to send Derek a text that simply says: ' _Raincheck on that talk about the wolf. I haven't forgotten.'_ And then Peter turns the volume back on just in case it's needed.

He slips away from Derek with some degree of difficulty, replacing his lap with one of Derek's pillows that now smells like Peter. With a final glance back at Derek's sleeping face - _finally_ looking relaxed - Peter nods and slips out, leaving the box of pizza behind. He'll let Derek sleep for now, but he'll definitely bring up ideas for the rogue wolf in the morning.


	3. It can help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Derek doesn't want to go somewhere else. Even if it's Peter and Peter is a complicated knot that Derek doesn't know how to untie, it's still family, it's still something that his wolf longs for -- to be near pack (or whatever Peter is). This is where he wants to be. Derek wants to be next to Peter and making sure his uncle doesn't get any more bright ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Here we go, hurt/comfort for everyone! <3
> 
> & ty for the few encouraging comments! It's nice to know we're not alone in liking this pairing

As it so happens, Peter _does_ bring up the rogue werewolf on their territory the next morning, though he does it by phone to let Derek save face. He baits Derek a little by asking how he'd slept, but mostly Peter behaves himself and focuses on the issue of the wolf. Derek either accepts Peter's attempt to _not_ mention the not-cuddling the night before, or he's just that oblivious. Given how awkward Derek sounds during every silence, though, Peter knows which one he assumes is correct.

In the end, after a good twenty minutes on the phone, Derek comes to the conclusion with Peter's help to start sending out patrols to track the wolf down. He doesn't answer Peter's question about what he intends to _do_ when he finds it, but that suits Peter just fine. He hangs up when Derek tells him he'll need to do a patrol too at some point, and Derek has enough sense to not text him after.

Life continues. Peter _doesn't_ go out, as it so happens, though he does a little skulking on his own time. Sometimes he swears he can scent the foreign stench in town, or hanging around the school, but it's always gone when he goes out again to check.

Derek mobilizes the pack, sending pairs out every night to look around. At first everyone seems alarmed (or so Derek tells Peter, as no one else actually talks to him) but as time passes with no incidents, tensions ease.

Until one night, almost two weeks after the initial meeting, when Peter gets a call from Derek. He hears a commotion in the back, hears ragged breathing and soft sounds of pain, and Derek just tells him to 'get over here', and Peter considers only for a moment before he complies.

He drives to Derek's loft and the scent of blood is immediately apparent the moment Peter steps out of his car. Lifting his head to scent the air, Peter can tell it's Isaac and that Scott is there too. He curiously makes his way upstairs, and he's not entirely surprised at the sight that greets him:

Derek, standing stoically, looking as constipated as ever, hovering near Isaac - who has slumped, bloody, and a little pale, against the sofa - and Scott, who seems to be in the middle of a rant that's been going on for awhile if the tightness in Derek's eyes is any indication.

"...--angerous, Derek! You said you had that portion of the preserve covered!" Scott yells, and Peter stops in the doorway to watch.

"It's fine. _I'm fine_ ," Isaac insists, initially to Scott, and then turning pleading eyes up on Derek. He makes a move to struggle up but Scott is there the next second, a hand on his shoulder. Peter cranes his neck to see, and yes, there _are_ deep scratches in Isaac's sleeves. Isaac only looks more embarrassed. "It could have happened to anyone. Even Derek. Scott, really, I'm fine. It'll heal."

"That's not the _point--"_ Scott begins, but Peter's heard enough.

"It's not healing?" Peter asks as he steps into the loft, shrugging his jacket off to hang up by the front door. He's gratified to see Scott give a little jump, like the twit had been too high-and-mighty to notice him, and Peter doesn't miss the relief in Isaac's eyes as Peter wanders over to him. "So, _not_ an Omega, I take it."

Isaac shakes his head and, when Peter makes a small gesture, he grimaces and then slowly peels his shirt up. When Peter makes another motion, he up and pulls it over his head with Scott's help, and the deep, lurid lines on Isaac's side leave no room for error. Peter hums.

"He'll heal," he says, more for Derek than for Scott's sake. "But it'll be painful for some time. I'd suggest stitches temporarily. The blood loss _is_ a bit of an issue." Peter glances over at Derek then, giving him a look. It's clear that he wants the story the moment that Scott and Isaac leave. "Call your mother, Scott. Have her tend to him. He'll be fine."

* * *

The wolf tromping around is likely an Omega. It could have been forced out of their pack, could have gotten separated somehow or hunters could have even had a part to play, perhaps decimated their numbers. It's also possible that the wolf is newly turned and lost (which is not good). There are a number of plausible reasons for why a wolf is here and why it's alone, but be that as it may, Derek needs to know. He's not looking to increase his numbers and he's not looking for trouble. What he needs are answers.

After talking with Peter (and stubbornly ignoring any goading about what had happened the night prior), patrolling seems like the best option. Derek doesn't want to involve Argent in trying to capture it. If possible, he wants his pack to be able to take care of the problem. It's on their turf. It's his responsibility. One wolf has got to be manageable. They can't screw this up ( _he_ can't screw this up).

The patrols go fine. At first the others are understandably wary, but as the days go by and nothing comes of it, the pack gradually relaxes and takes patrolling as a nature walk gig.

And then it all goes to hell. The werewolf is found but it gets the jump on Isaac and Isaac gets hurt. Scott had drug Isaac to his bike and drove him to the loft. They get Isaac situated on the couch, his shirt in tatters, the wounds still fresh and sluggishly healing. Derek feels panic and guilt threaten to claw at him as Isaac's pain fills his senses and he calls Peter without thinking.

Scott is still raving at him, but Derek barely hears the words. His eyes are focused on Isaac who looks pale and scared but trying his best to be stoic. Tension has Derek frozen in place, the guilt is like a ball and chain. He distantly is aware of Peter arriving. Derek says and does nothing as Peter gets up to speed on the injury.

It's obvious enough that the werewolf is actually an Alpha. Derek had been wrong. He shouldn't have put his Betas at risk. Isaac is a damn high schooler. Derek should have been the one out to patrol every evening if needed, not a bunch of kids who delight in free pizza. Derek knows it's not a death sentence. Wounds from an Alpha will heal, albeit slower, but it will be excruciating for Isaac.

Scott leaves the room to call his mom and Derek kneels beside the couch. "Here, let me," he awkwardly offers. Derek's hand comes to take Isaac's own and his eyes flash red as he focuses on draining Isaac's pain. Derek clenches his jaw as black crawls up through his veins. Isaac looks bad and Derek knows he should apologize but he focuses on this, on siphoning some of Isaac's pain. This is doable. The pain is a distraction and Derek doesn't ease up until Melissa arrives and Scott is helping Isaac up and Derek considers helping, but Scott gives him a murderous look so Derek watches the two Betas shuffle out.

After his initial two cents, Peter has been staying off to the side (which Derek is grateful for). Derek glances down at his hands. Isaac's blood is there and the scent of fear and pain is still lingering in his loft. It causes Derek's stomach to roil.

"I didn't think..." Derek begins but then stops and shakes his head. If he gets into this with Peter, Peter is going to call him an idiot - but it had been Peter's idea for them _all_ to patrol.

Derek turns and looks at Peter and then he's bolting at his uncle and grabbing Peter by the neck and shoving him against the nearest wall. Derek pins him there, his hands quickly grasping onto Peter's wrists so Peter can't seek to scratch him. "Did you know it was an Alpha?" Derek hisses, eyes red again. "Were you hoping one of them got maimed, or worse, killed?"

* * *

Alpha wounds aren't always fatal but Isaac certainly won't be ready to do yoga any time in the next two days. Peter goes quiet once Scott rushes off to call his mother, thinking quietly as Derek carefully crowds into Isaac's space and leeches his pain away with such a dejected look that it's a wonder Isaac doesn't start comforting _him_. Oh, Peter watches Isaac manage a few weak smiles, hears him quietly thanking Derek through the embarrassment he must be feeling, but Derek clearly isn't listening.

It leaves Peter time to think to himself as he watches the pack move. An Alpha _will_ be more complicated than an Omega would have been, which doesn't bode well. He frowns thoughtfully to himself, stepping back to give Derek space, and he muses on the potential risk for the pack, coupled with his own findings over the last few weeks. The lingering scents make sense now; Omegas tend to avoid public areas, but Alphas - regardless of how feral - have no such fear. It's not something he should have known about, but it _does_ irritate Peter that he'd missed it.

He says nothing as Scott returns to fuss around Isaac (so obvious), and when Melissa shows up, Peter makes a point to not look at her. He can feel her glowering at him and if it helps her feel better, he's fine with it. And, sure enough, she manages to take control at that point, being gentle with Derek and Isaac whilst mobilizing her son to help Isaac get back out to the car she'd driven in. Peter leaves them to it; his focus is on Derek, and on the guilt he can see in his nephew's eyes. He inwardly sighs. If Peter hadn't known, Derek certainly had no chance.

When Derek speaks up, Peter glances at him but says nothing. He smartly leaves Derek to work through his own thoughts and walks to the door to close it. He's half a step from the door when Peter's instincts suddenly flare in alarm and he has a half a second to start to turn around before there's a hand at the back of his neck.

Derek shoves Peter against the wall with enough force that it drives the breath from his lungs. The hand at his nape is crushing, and Peter snarls at the sudden flood of anger he can feel from Derek's hand. Using the makeshift link to get his frustration across is dirty, and yet it still leaves Peter reeling. He's not shy about lashing out though, and Peter's eyes are already blazing blue, his claws already out and raking back at Derek's hip when Derek catches his wrists and renders that particular endeavor obsolete. There's a snarl on Peter's lips as he tries to twist, one leg kicking back, but Derek's got him pinned. Rage spikes sharply in his chest but Peter's no idiot. He narrows his eyes and glares bitter daggers at his nephew, but forces himself to listen anyway.

And... he can't necessarily fault Derek for the assumption, though it sends a wave of something half-bitter, half-frustrated through him. Peter growls, still struggling for the breath that had been knocked out of him but the anger isn't going anywhere. More than anything, it's the indignity that rakes over his pride like claws; he can feel Derek pressed up against his back, and Peter doesn't miss the likely-intentional allusion to when Peter had done this to him on the floor. It's _demeaning_.

"So glad to see that your faith in me hasn't been shaken," Peter bites back bitterly. " _No_ , Derek. I _didn't_ know. Despite how I must appear compared to your and your _genius_ Betas, I'm not actually omniscient."

* * *

Peter's never really cared for anyone but himself. Well, that's not entirely true. Peter has _some_ loyalty to him, maybe it's some lingering fondness for the kid Peter used to hang out with, some strained familial bond... But Laura had been family, too and Peter had killed her. Derek doesn't know if it's because Peter had been out of his mind or if she had just been an obstacle in front of him that needed to be removed. Laura wouldn't have allowed Peter to go off terrorizing Beacon Hills, after all, and Laura had possessed the Alpha status. Two birds, one stone. It's a logical choice, to acquire power and neutralize a threat. This is speculation. He's never asked Peter. Derek thinks he may be scared of the answer - of any answer his uncle could give.

As usual, it's easier to be angry. Derek undoubtedly feels guilty and shitty. He feels responsible. He feels like he's been shortsighted. He doesn't really know if Peter wanted something bad to happen. It's possible, is the thing. Peter has been known to withhold information from time to time. Derek is used to it with his dealings, but he wonders if he hadn't impressed upon the pack that Peter could be a massive pain in the ass... but Derek had told them to do patrols, not Peter. They had trusted Derek...

And Peter had pinned him to the floor and then to the wall at his own place. Maybe this is payback, but somehow Derek knows Peter won't think of it in such a way. He can feel and scent the rage and indignation of this position - of the accusation - and that helps calm Derek down more than the actual answer. It takes real effort to hold Peter still. Derek is flush against him, using his body and bulk to press Peter into the wall. Derek lets go of Peter's neck to better hold his wrists - one in each hand now. Derek holds Peter's arms above his head and he leans down, his mouth resting against Peter's nape.

"You expect me to let you do this to me," Derek says, his lips moving against Peter's skin. "But you can't do the same for me. How is that fair?" Derek's voice is low. He feels an odd stirring of arousal. There's a slight twisted appreciation at having Peter under him and pissed off and Derek would rather focus on that than the smell of Isaac's blood and his own monumental failures.

* * *

Peter gives his arms a pull, testing Derek's hold. Indignation and fury are burning like a low flame under his skin; he'd come here to _help_ simply because Derek had called him while distraught, and this is the thanks he gets? Yes, Peter has a vague loyalty to Isaac, enough to somewhat care that he'd been hurt, but to withstand Scott and Melissa for Derek's sake is still a lot to ask for him. Now, feeling Derek's anger burning where the hand against his nape is, and feeling Derek pinning him down blatantly, Peter isn't so certain he doesn't want to whirl around and sink his fangs into his nephew's throat for good measure.

The issue is that he can't. Peter's not necessarily weak, but his strength has always been the element of surprise. Unfortunately for him, Derek had won that this time, and maybe that rankles more than it should.

It doesn't take long for Derek's hand to move, but it's only to grab Peter's other wrist. Peter growls low in his throat; Derek can undoubtedly feel the vibration. Yet despite a quick struggle and Peter attempting to push back, or squirm away, Derek _does_ have more bulk than he does. Derek also has the annoying advantage of being an Alpha, and Peter's clawed hands dig mutinously into the wall he'd been shoved against. The only plus side is that Peter can hear Derek straining with the effort to keep him pinned. _Good_. Let him struggle.

Yet when Derek moves Peter's arms up and presses his lips to the back of Peter's neck, Peter's anger hits a quick, confused roadblock before it quiets into a dull roar. He goes still, breathing hard, and then curiously draws in a slow breath through his nose. He's only half-surprised when he scents a hint of arousal, but that doesn't make the realization any better. Peter's jaw tightens as Derek speaks.

"Have you ever _asked?_ " Peter shoots back, and the level of irritation in his tone makes it clear that he's not making any of his usual efforts to keep calm. He doesn't like being pinned (helpless, out of control...) and he makes a point to drag lines through the drywall with his claws. "I pushed you because you _wanted_ me to. There was no expectation, _nephew_. You needed it."

* * *

Derek doesn't know exactly what he's getting at or where this is going. He'd called Peter because he'd been panicked. Of course, he'd been suspicious of Peter, but Derek doesn't think that Peter had known it was an Alpha. Peter had seemed genuinely bothered by the insinuation and Derek knows that Peter doesn't like being wrong (Derek had detected a little bit of that, too).

Now that there's an Alpha lurking, it's more dangerous for all of them. Derek knows he should focus on that. They should probably alert Argent. If the wolf is attacking one of his pack, he doubts it's here for any friendly conversation. Derek should be picking Peter's brain about a plan (even Derek knows Peter excels at planning compared to him). Derek should also be wary of the idea that Peter may try and do something devious like trying to use them all to trap the wolf and then Peter would deliver the killing blow.

There's a lot of things Derek should be doing. He should be texting Scott to see how Isaac is doing. He should text the others. He should just throw Peter out because there's no doubt that this isn't going to have some sort of fallout and Derek doesn't particularly want to deal with _any_ more fallout, thanks.

But he asks his question honestly. Peter sees no problem pinning him, getting him to submit, kissing and biting him. Is it so much to ask that it could be reciprocal in nature? (And the fact that he's thinking about _any_ of this should have alarm bells wildly going off in his head.) Peter is slightly less angry at this new position, at the almost-intimacy of it, at the possible _insinuation_ (or is this all in Derek's head? Just how fucked up is he?).

_'You needed it.'_

"And you didn't enjoy it at all, _uncle_?" Derek retorts. "Tell me you wouldn't enjoy our positions reversed even if I didn't _need_ it." And the idea of him _needing_ it pisses off Derek, but he's not going to think about that right now.

And Derek is glaring as he purposefully kisses Peter's nape lightly, but there can be no mistaking what it is. "Is it so bad? You know I won't hurt you."

* * *

Peter looks up at his wrists, or at least the one he can see. The tendons in Derek's arms are standing out at the force it takes to keep Peter pinned, and he supposes that is a small victory of sorts. His own claws have dug deep lines in the drywall, and he takes vicious pleasure in the idea that the next person who comes in here and sees the claw-marks will be asking Derek a few very-uncomfortable questions. The desire to claw the wall up more out of spite is certainly there, but Derek's grip is annoyingly strong and the reminder that Derek actually _is_ stronger than he is despite the little roles they've been playing is enough to leave bitterness burning in Peter's stomach.

Derek likes this. Peter doesn't. Perhaps once he'd have been amenable to something like this, but then he'd been burned alive, locked away in his own head for six years, and had control wrested away from him. This is nothing like that, of course, but he doesn't like feeling pinned, doesn't appreciate the knowledge that he _can't_ shove Derek off. Peter isn't strong enough, and Derek knows it. It's humiliating.

But then... Derek's retort _does_ carry some weight. It doesn't make Peter like this any more, but he bites back the answer that comes to mind. Derek has a point. He _would_ still like Derek submitting to him even if Derek hadn't needed it. Him needing it is just a convenient excuse. But more than anything, it's the irritation in Derek's voice that sends a quick spark of satisfaction through Peter. He might not be stronger, but he can still get under Derek's skin.

Then Derek kisses his nape. It's quick, hardly there, but Peter can't deny the quick spark of sensation that zips across his skin. He shifts, arching his back a little to try and put a bit of space between them. It hadn't felt awful, but it's beside the point.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Peter says back, flatly. "Yes, you'd be _unquestionably_ gentle, wouldn't you? You wouldn't dare let your instincts demand the way they want to. You wouldn't bite, or push, or _take_. You'd be remarkably _human_."

* * *

Derek knows he is stronger than Peter. Being stronger than someone else - pack or not - has never mattered to Derek. Strength doesn't amount to anything really if you don't use it efficiently. Derek wants to be strong enough to protect those he cares about, but he's apparently the strongest of them all - physically - and he still sucks at doing the right thing. What's the point in being the strongest then? There's a few times that Derek has thought that Scott should have been the Alpha instead. Scott, although naive at times, at least possesses a good moral compass and leadership skills that are improving. Derek is still too untrusting and wary. Derek is too haunted. Derek is too much of too many things.

Despite his question and implication that this position is currently not the worst thing out there, Peter is definitely trying to play it like it is. Peter's claws have been scratching at the drywall and the dust has fallen on both their hands and arms. Derek isn't pleased by Peter defacing his property (and he knows the pack will ask what happened), but that's a problem for later.

Derek knows Peter would enjoy him submitting no matter the circumstance. Peter is just that type of person. If Derek wasn't the Alpha, would it be the same? He doesn't know. Maybe that's the only allure to Peter and to this fucked up dynamic. And that should be what, good? A relief? Derek doesn't know. Maybe it's a disappointment, too.

Peter tries to move away, to create space. And Derek isn't surprised that Peter opts to goad him. Initially, Derek is pissed as Peter tries to demean him and insist that he'd be remarkably _human_ (and like that is some insult says enough). It's then Derek realizes Peter hasn't even answered the question. Derek takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He slots his head over Peter's shoulder.

"You expect pain, you're used to it," Derek whispers into Peter's ear. "If I forced you, if I bit and clawed, it would be nothing. You could justify it. Probably enjoy it as long as you could do it right back." Derek wets his lips before he presses his mouth against Peter's ear. "But if I was unquestionably gentle? If I was remarkably _human_ with you? That'd hurt more than an Alpha's claws. Monsters don't expect care."

That said, Derek releases Peter's wrists and steps back.

* * *

This is the way to take control back, even if in a small way. If Derek is set on this - and to Peter, it initially looks like he is - then this is the way he can at least wrest control back onto his side. He isn't strong enough to struggle his way out and flip their positions, but he _can_ at least make this on his terms. Derek pressing close and speaking about what he _could_ do only sets Peter's skin crawling. So he goads. He taunts in the way he knows how, and he can scent Derek's anger spike not a few moments later. Satisfaction cuts through Peter as he lets some of his tension go. Derek's anger means something, and Peter is already bracing himself for the bite of claws or fangs... but then he feels Derek breathe in deep, feels him trying to calm himself.

And then Derek speaks, and Peter subtly tenses. Derek leans in, his lips practically brushing Peter's ear, and Peter growls low, but doesn't wrench away. He does look away, his knuckles white as he presses his fingers against the wall. And when Derek's lips _do_ touch his ear, when he speaks of gentleness and being _human_ , Peter's lip curls in a small sneer. But the worst of it is that while Peter doesn't doubt that the words Derek is speaking _also_ hold true to Derek, they do the same for Peter.

 _Monsters don't expect care_.

Peter's claws hit the studs under the drywall, digging in deep enough to score. He stands there, rigid, and when Derek pulls away, he stands for a beat longer before he wrenches his claws free of the drywall in a shower of dust. The tension in the air is thick, and when Peter looks back at Derek, his gaze briefly lands on Derek's throat. There's no question that - if only for a second - Peter considers ripping it out.

"No, they don't. Which is why you fought me the first time you came to me," Peter says back, his tone so silken that it's dangerous. "You know... you remind me of your mother sometimes. Observant when it suits you. Typically when it's least beneficial. But," he adds, on a small laugh. "I suppose all that time you spent with me rubbed off on you too. You've described the both of us. Congratulations, Derek. You should be proud."

Peter steps over to the door and wrenches it open sharply enough that the lock groans in protest. When he looks back over his shoulder, his gaze is cool. "If you ever accuse me after you've asked for my help again, remember the tattoo on your back. Alpha, Beta, Omega."

With that, Peter walks out, the door closing none-too-gently behind him.

* * *

_'If you ever accuse me after you've asked for my help again, remember the tattoo on your back. Alpha, Beta, Omega.'_

Peter's words swirl in Derek's mind an ominous mist. He wishes it was _just_ the threat that really had stuck, but it was what Peter had artfully replied with _before_... Stating that Derek sometimes reminded him of Talia, being observant when it suited him, and then the part where Peter had claimed that he'd just described himself as well as Peter.

It rankles Derek. How could it not? Derek doesn't think of himself as a _monster_ , does he? He remembers how Peter had been as an Alpha, twisted and monstrous and _wrong._ Like a kanima, an abomination? Can Derek go that far? It feels distinctly uncomfortable to consider Peter like that. He also remembers Peter tucking him into bed, both as as a child and recently as an adult, as a twenty-three year old Alpha who's apparently weak enough to want it.

Peter's claw marks are still in his drywall and Derek can't be bothered to care or repair it any time soon. The rest of the pack accepts the answer of 'a scrap with Peter' all too easily. No one seems to blame Derek over that one, and Derek doesn't know if he's relieved.

Although Derek still sends Peter text alerts about meetings, Peter stays away and Derek's not exactly holding his breath for his uncle to show up. Derek does find out through the grapevine that Peter had sought out some answers from Isaac (which doesn't sit well with Derek). He's pretty sure Peter is more pissed that he'd jumped and pinned Peter than accused him, but Derek doesn't know for certain.

He doesn't let anyone else patrol and Isaac's wounds do heal. Derek tries to stay busy, to not think and worry about what this apparent jerk of an Alpha could want (clearly nothing good). Peter being petty is nothing new, but it's still bothersome and Derek doesn't know what to do so he does nothing. Peter's an adult. Once he's done pouting, he'll come back out.

* * *

The Alpha doesn't necessarily become a _problem_ , but news of Isaac's injury quickly spreads in the pack. Peter only hears about it peripherally, as after he leaves Derek's loft that night, he doesn't go to the pack meeting the following day, or the one two days later. Perhaps it could be seen as distancing himself, but in reality, Peter just feels bitter and _petty_ about how the interaction had turned out. So he showers upon getting back to his apartment, gives himself a few hours to fume, and then settles in to do what the rest of the pack undoubtedly _isn't_ doing. He thinks.

Peter settles on his couch late that night and pulls up a map of Beacon Hills, then gets to work. Truly he doesn't _care_ that the Alpha is terrorizing the pack, at least not in the same way Derek undoubtedly cares, but Peter is still a member of the pack, and is still at risk. True, a part of him does consider the merit of there being an _Alpha_ in the territory, and he does let himself dwell on how sweet an idea that seems for a bit... but he'll be no good to anyone if he's killed first. So Peter gets to work.

He thinks back to all the places where he'd scented the damn thing in town, and after a few hours, he has a rough map as to where it might be hiding. There's a section of the preserve directly in the area, and while it takes a little conversation with Isaac (who doesn't look happy to be talking to him), he eventually discovers that he'd been attacked close by. It's as good as a neon sign as far as Peter is concerned, so he looks at his schedule and then gets to work again.

***

As the pack chases their tails that week, Peter goes out to look. Inwardly he's insisting it's due to selfishness, but the memory of Derek's suspicion still rankles like a healing arrow wound. Peter grimaces and shoves that thought aside.

He wanders casually inside the territory he'd picked out and while it offends his senses, he does wind up wearing a heavier cologne than he'd like. It obscures some of the scent, but it'll also obscure his, and so he gets to walking, exploring the city casually. He makes a show of it, even going so far as to buy a hot dog from a _cart_ when he catches the scent thicker on the air in one place, but he never manages to actually pinpoint the area. It _does_ narrow his search down though, and every little bit will eventually help.

He patrols the city during the day, and he goes into the preserve a few times at night, though he's always exceedingly careful. He _is_ still a Beta, and as much as Derek is family, Peter isn't about to get killed on a whim.

Or... that's the plan, at least. Until Peter happens to stumble a _little_ too close and pay the price.

Honestly it's just plain dumb luck that the Alpha doesn't recognize him. Peter only catches a glimpse in the darkness, of broad shoulders and a thick neck and large fists with wicked-looking claws. Peter feigns dumb, and he's not entirely certain whether or not the Alpha _knows_ he's a werewolf or if the damn thing is just that obsessed with causing a little havoc, but Peter gets enough out of it. He hears the sneered boast about taking territory from someone too young to hold it, and when Peter presses for more information, he's met with the business end of claws.

He's lucky it's not worse, in retrospect, but that doesn't mean it _feels_ lucky. He's quick and adrenaline is a lovely thing when he's got it. The first blow hits him around the knee and Peter feels something tear, which makes it a damn wonder that he manages to run. It's distant agony, but between survival and agony, survival always wins out. He gets a good blow in when the Alpha tackles him down, his claws raking through the line of the Alpha's throat, which must do _something_ to his confidence, because with a roar, the beast is off like a shot, though not before giving Peter a parting blow.

It takes him a good hour to drag himself away, and another half an hour to finally admit that he needs help. His knee - which had worked beautifully while pumped full of adrenaline - is a bloody, torn mess that he can't put weight on, and there are four gashes down his back which sting horribly. Breathing a little raggedly, Peter closes his eyes, counts to seventy (it's become habit by now) and finally, grudgingly takes out his phone.

"Southwest entrance to the preserve, about two miles in," Peter breathes tightly once Derek answers the call. He doesn't give his nephew the time to ask any questions. "Follow my scent. Could use a little assistance if you've got the time." And with that, Peter ends the call. It's enough information. He settles in to wait against the trunk of a large oak, hissing his annoyance.

* * *

Derek isn't expecting an obvious distressed call from Peter. Peter, predictably, hangs up before Derek can ask for any more information. He moves without thought. Derek grabs his leather jacket, jumps into his car and then speeds to the appropriate entrance of the preserve that Peter had just given him. Derek briefly considers phoning Scott or Boyd, but if Peter had thought he needed the backup, he's pretty sure Peter would have told him to bring help.

He parks and as soon as Derek is outside, his eyes glint red and scents the air. He doesn't have to focus too hard. Peter is familiar to him and once Derek catches it, he's running.

It takes him a handful of minutes to close in on Peter and by the time he does Derek's heart is beating furiously and anxiety curdles in his stomach. There's blood, pain, fading adrenaline on the air, but underneath is _family_. Derek slows down when he finds the crumpled form of Peter whose leg is clearly not doing so well. Peter is leaning against a tree looking too nonchalant for anyone who's got a ravaged limb.

"You idiot," Derek growls as he comes to rest and kneel beside Peter, his hand coming to clasp Peter's shoulder. His eyes survey the damage and then quickly glance around. "We safe now?"

* * *

There is a small possibility that Derek might not come, but Peter's fairly certain that despite their disagreements and the last time they'd spoken, Derek's guilt won't let him stay away. The _what ifs_ will prompt him into action even if he hesitates, or suspects that this is a trap. Undoubtedly that will cross his mind, and Peter can't deny that if he _were_ out to kill Derek, that would be a relatively good plan. The issue is that he _doesn't_ want the only other member of their family dead, and as much as it pains Peter to admit it (physically even) he does need Derek's help.

Oh, anyone would have done. He could have called Isaac, or even Stiles. But if the Alpha came back with just them, Derek would kill him were he to survive for putting his Betas at risk. So Peter inwardly acknowledges his decision and with a deep grimace, he settles back against the tree and focuses on his breathing.

He's bleeding more than he wants to be, and his leg is broken, he's sure. He's had worse. Being burned alive does count for some things, but Peter _hates_ feeling trapped in any capacity. His leg is broken, the tendons cut, and he knows he's not going anywhere. He idly considers trying to bait a rabbit in or a deer to kill, just to mask the scent of his own blood for further protection, but there's no point. He's trapped, he's in pain, and there _is_ an Alpha in the forest. Derek is his best bet.

Derek apparently knows it, too. For while Peter had expected him to be a good hour or so, it isn't twenty minutes before Peter hears the pounding of feet in the woods. He tenses, readying to fight if he has to, but when Derek's scent washes over him, Peter sags back against the tree with a relief so sharp that it surprises even _him_. He closes his eyes for a moment, inwardly thanking this idiot for being so trusting, but he doesn't keep quiet for long. Derek's question is smart (Peter's impressed).

"For now," Peter says. His voice is tight with pain, but he still manages to sound flippant despite the harsher, tighter breaths. He glances at Derek, kneeling beside him, and distantly notes that he's leaned himself in against Derek's hand a little. It's weakness, but understandable, Peter thinks. He dismisses that concern.

And then he holds up his hand, his nails dark with dried blood. "I caught his throat. Unfortunately not fatal, but it bought me time, and I believe it unnerved him enough to run. So _idiot_ is debatable." Peter flashes Derek a quick smirk, then holds his hand up higher, prompting. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to help me up? I can't walk, and I'd rather not be here when he comes back."

* * *

It's gotta be the Alpha, which means Peter had been enough of an idiot to go off on his own. There's no saying how many times Peter has patrolled and sniffed around. Derek has the feeling that this isn't an isolated incident. He's aggravated by Peter's gall to do something so dangerous and stupid, but getting angry won't help right here so Derek doesn't let it get a hold of him. As much as he's tempted to immediately throw off his jacket and cover Peter to keep him warm, he doesn't know if he should be expecting company or the situation and they obviously can't stay here.

Peter's leg looks to be broken and there's lacerations on his back, but Peter's pulse is decently steady and it doesn't look like he's lost too much blood. When Peter answers him, Derek looks back to Peter's face. The coming story is honestly ridiculous. Derek doesn't need to know that he _unnerved_ the Alpha. Peter seems rather self-satisfied by the fact that he'd managed to get a claw swipe in too. A retort is on the tip of his tongue - probably just a 'shut up' - but Peter seems to get back on track and wants help.

Derek gives a curt nod. "Right."

Derek's up on his own feet and hauling Peter along a moment later. It's going to be slow going, but it can't be helped. Peter is too big to simply give a piggyback to and the broken leg would make such a position impossible. Peter's arm drapes across his shoulder and Derek's wraps around Peter's waist. It takes a few attempts to figure out the best way to support-drag-walk Peter out, but Derek tries his best and after a few suggestions from Peter, they get into a pace that'll take them out of the preserve.

Minutes later, a cold sweat has broken out on Derek, but he glares and doesn't complain. It's a manageable strain. If he feels strain and fatigue, it means he's alive and he can do more. His eyes remain red and he tries his best to remain alert.

"You doing okay? I'm not going to drag your corpse," Derek grits out.

* * *

To Derek's credit, there is no sneering or gloating and certainly no lecturing that immediately takes place. While he _could_ go down all of those routes, he doesn't. Instead Derek stands and takes Peter's hand, pulling him up onto his feet. Peter feels the dizzying spike of pain that admittedly almost sends him back down to the forest floor but Derek keeps him on his feet. Swallowing, his skin prickling with a cold sweat, Peter relents to Derek's quiet suggestion as he wraps an arm around Derek's shoulders for support. From there, it's ridiculously slow going, but it needs to be done. Derek apparently doesn't want to jostle his leg too much, and Peter outright refuses to be carried, so eventually they're left with Peter awkwardly trying not to put his weight on his leg, while putting all of his weight temporarily on Derek.

Minutes later Peter is beginning to regret his decision. They're making relatively good time, but each step manages to jostle his leg anyway. It's mildly infuriating; he'd managed to _run_ on the damn thing before collapsing. He knows it's possible. But it doesn't _seem_ like it now. But Peter doesn't miss that Derek is still trying, doing precisely what Peter had said. More importantly, he's still _here_ and complicated twists of relief and the faintest touch of guilt twist in Peter's chest before he shoves it away.

"I'll live," Peter says evasively, because it's easier than asking to stop for awhile because he feels sick. His leg is definitely not going to heal anytime soon; it's a bad break. And much as Peter appreciates this, the slow-going he'd assumed he needed quickly becomes difficult to manage.

It still takes him another five minutes before he's willing to admit defeat because his pride is far more vast than even Derek knows. But in the end Peter's claws press into Derek's shirt in order to draw him to a halt. Breathing hard, frustrated, Peter finally shakes his head.

"Too slow. It's drawing this out. Just..." Peter feels a prickle of cold humiliation on the back of his neck. "Pick me up and run. Never mind my leg, it'll heal. I'd rather be free of the possibility of attack."

* * *

He should probably ask if Peter can smell the Alpha, but then Derek reasons that Peter would likely speak up if it was following them. Derek hasn't picked up any ominous sounds at least. He doesn't doubt that it had unnerved the Alpha to have his throat _scratched_ , but he's not going to give Peter any credit. Derek doesn't exactly know how strong Peter is, how much he's recovered from crawling out of the floor as it were. It wouldn't surprise him to learn that Peter hasn't been going all-out when they've been training. That kind of thing sounds exactly like Peter.

Derek knows that Peter trying to limp-walk isn't going the best. There's really no great way to stabilize Peter's injured leg. It doesn't seem to be bleeding profusely or Derek would be ripping off his shirt and tying it around for some compression. But he tries his best to keep a slow but steady pace. As he's lugging his uncle, Derek is at a significant disadvantage if he's attacked so he would rather get out of here sooner than later.

It turns out Peter agrees when he swallows his pride and tells Derek to pick him up and run. Derek stops after the request and throws Peter a look. He isn't _thrilled_ about it (because he's foreseeing that Peter is going to be impossibly pissy about this later), but it makes sense.

"We're not telling the others about this," Derek stiffly states. He looks Peter over quickly and decides what would work best for running and Peter not flopping around like a sack of potatoes. He then scoops Peter up and holds him bridal style, pressing his injured leg close and against him. Only when Peter is firmly holding onto him does Derek take off running in the direction of his car.

* * *

It can't be helped. This is a danger that Peter can't simply gloss over. While he doesn't scent the Alpha _now_ , that doesn't mean that it won't try to find them and despite recent circumstances, Peter isn't an idiot. Derek is at a disadvantage like this, and if Derek is, then so is Peter. So while he hates it, and while it definitely doesn't bode well for his pain level, Peter bites the metaphorical bullet and speaks up. Derek, unsurprisingly, agrees, but what _does_ surprise Peter is that his nephew apparently has no desire to tell the others about this. Despite the contained humiliation, Peter still finds himself stiffly grateful. He nods, setting his jaw, and lets Derek call the shots.

Nothing would have been pleasant, but the way Derek eventually decides to pick him up is as good as Peter's going to get. He still feels remarkably dizzy when his leg is forced to bend and press solidly to Derek's chest, but the flare of agony is still preferable to every sharp jostle while they'd been walking. Peter just grits his teeth, his skin a little pale with pain, but he still reaches out and wraps his arm around Derek's neck without comment. The position is difficult to excuse and Peter does want to protest on principle, but he doesn't. For once he keeps his mouth shut.

Derek running is a measure in contained agony. By the time Derek breaks free of the preserve and makes his way over to his car, Peter's eyes are glowing blue, his fangs clenched, and he's got his claws half-dug into Derek's shoulder, but he hadn't complained once. He says nothing as Derek brings him to the car, and though he insists on being set down to make his way to the passenger's side, Peter doesn't tarry. He almost falls once (because pain and blood loss do not make for good balance) but he still forces himself into the seat indicated, shedding his jacket to ball up behind him on the seat as best as he can.

It's a pitiful offering as his blood _will_ stain Derek's car, but it's an attempt to not be an ass, at least.

"I'll need stitches and ice," he grits out once he has the door closed behind him. Shaking a little as he leans back in the seat like he'd just run a damn marathon, Peter wets his lips. "I have what I need in my apartment. You can drop me off there."

* * *

This is nothing new. Derek is, unfortunately, a little used to this. He's used to carrying or dragging or supporting one of his idiot packmates out of something. He's never really had to do it for _Peter_ though - this is a first. He's certain his uncle is likely more agitated by being carried (and saved) than he is doing it. If Derek was a petty bitch, he'd definitely have some ammunition but then again... So does Peter. Derek isn't interested in figuring out who has the most embarrassing gossip either. Nothing sounds worse than that. He's not in high school anymore.

So he runs and the exertion and strength needed does help calm him. He's still on alert, still wondering what they will need to do, but Derek throws himself into the task, the leaves and underbrush crunching under his shoes. He's always liked running in the preserve, the wind blowing past him, the smells of earth and nature - but he's never liked running for his life. Power comes with risks and Derek doesn't kid himself that his life is going to get any easier.

At some point Peter's claws have come out and are digging into him. The blood under Peter's claws will be mixing with the unknown Alpha's. Derek feels his skin trying to heal but Peter's grip doesn't relent and Derek doesn't chide him. If anything, the sting of pain keeps him focused. It offsets the pain and stress that is radiating off of Peter.

Peter proves he's an idiot _again_ by attempting to get into the car himself and after a near fall his uncle is in the passenger side and Derek is running to the driver's side and fishing his keys out. He forces the red out of his eyes, not wanting any possible extra trouble while driving. Derek does notice Peter attempt to use his jacket to not get blood on the seat (which isn't a big issue because Derek knows a guy who does detailing no questions asked).

An eyebrow lifts as Peter mentions dropping Peter off at his own apartment. Derek just ignores him and drives to the loft.

* * *

The scent of Derek's car is like a distant memory wrapping itself around Peter once he settles down into it. Despite the run through the woods and the agonizing ache in his leg, now that he's in Derek's car, the fight all but drains out of him. He sags back in his seat, distantly aware of the trembling of shock (not fear) and the pain, but when he feels the car rumble to life under him, Peter puts it into the back of his mind. All that matters is that Derek will take him back to his apartment, and he'll be able to go from there.

He doesn't know when he'd closed his eyes, and Peter's honestly unnerved when he opens them and finds that they've been driving for a good five minutes. Given the feeling in his head, he's fairly certain he'd passed out, but on the plus side, the bone in his leg feels a little like it's trying to at least start to reattach. He looks out of the window like he _hadn't_ succumbed to the pain briefly... and promptly frowns when he realizes that they're closer to Derek's side of town, not Peter's.

Understanding strikes at once, and while Peter's lips thin, he knows that Derek's loft _also_ has what he'll need. So, sending his nephew a sidelong look, Peter considers him, then acquiesces with a gruff, "no Deaton." It's the only allowance that Peter gives.

Getting to the loft is no problem. Getting _into_ the loft is another matter. While Peter initially tries to insist on walking, it quickly becomes clear that his body isn't ready for that. He isn't about to let Derek lift him up when there's the possibility of one of the Betas lingering around. So Peter makes due with his arm around Derek's shoulder, Derek's arm around his waist as Derek helps him limp into the building.

Luckily no one is there when they arrive. Peter breathes in the scent of wolves (not necessarily pack) but it's stale and so he relents, grimacing as he toes off his shoes with Derek's help and then gestures to the bathroom.

"My clothes need to come off so that I can survey the damage. Try not to get too excited," Peter says dryly, because now that they're safe, _some_ of his wit seems to have returned.

* * *

While driving, Derek still considers calling the others. He's completely aware that a bunch of teenagers aren't going to be able to really help, but it still feels like something the pack should be aware of. The problem is... Peter isn't exactly well-liked and Derek knows that Peter wouldn't want anyone else to see him like this. And Derek can relate. He's the same way. He'd rather suffer in silence. He's only here now because it's necessary.

As much as Peter would prefer to attempt to take care of himself and be alone _now,_ Derek is vetoing that. Derek can easily see Peter dragging himself around his apartment and bleeding everywhere while risking passing out. Derek can see that because it's what _he_ would do. It's what he's done in the past, even. So, Derek isn't going to respect Peter's stupid wishes. Peter had called him, so Peter is stuck with him.

Ironically, Derek had been considering calling Deaton, but Peter's comment nixes that and Derek gives a nod. He won't call Deaton as long as Peter's healing stays on track. Derek helps his uncle into his loft (who once again proves he's an idiot because he tries to walk). He helps Peter slip off his shoes and does the same for his. Peter's gesture to the bathroom _and_ comment about not getting excited about the stripping has Derek rolling his eyes. "Shut up," is all he says and perhaps a little more roughly, he drags Peter to his bathroom.

Once there, he sits Peter down on the toilet seat and shrugs off his jacket first. Derek then helps Peter remove the tattered bloody remains of his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. As Peter's hands appear to be shaking, Derek gets to his knees to the side of his uncle and swats the hands away before undoing the button and zipper. Right now, the memory of him pinning Peter to the wall or the reverse is far from his mind. There's nothing sexual or perverted about this task. He just wants Peter to be all right. He's lost enough family. It doesn't matter how ridiculous and infuriating Peter is, Peter is still family. Derek just sucks it up, grimacing as he works the jeans down and the injury is revealed to him.

* * *

Derek drags Peter into the bathroom, and while it does sting, he can appreciate Derek being rough in response. Peter is under no illusion that he doesn't deserve it, so he lets Derek lead the way into the bathroom and inwardly resigns himself to a little humiliation. At least it's just Derek; Peter can't imagine what he'd have done had Derek been stupid enough to call _Scott_. So while Peter isn't thrilled, he does let Derek help.

He's grateful to sit (even if it is on the closed toilet seat) and while the dried blood stuck to his skin aggravates the wounds when Derek helps him slide his shirt off, Peter doesn't protest beyond a hiss. He can't see the wounds in the mirror; the angle isn't right. He _can_ feel them, though, and while it'll take a few days for them to heal, he isn't concerned. Alpha injuries just last longer. Peter's bitterness at being forced into extended pain is what he's most upset over. Still, he goes to his belt, almost on autopilot.

Which means he's both slightly shocked and indignant when Derek just up and swats his hands away. It's only after Peter growls that he realizes his hands are shaking - _shaking! -_ and his growl cuts off sharply in a twist of annoyance. He still helps Derek work his jeans off, lifting his hips when necessary, but Peter's lips thin when the fabric passes his knee. The sight is... not particularly pleasant. A crippling injury for any human, but just an extended recovery for him. Still, his knee is swollen and practically black with bruising, but it's the back of it that is unsettling. Exposed - in one case _torn_ \- tendons, and oh look, that's why he hadn't been able to walk. Peter hisses out a low breath between his teeth, inwardly curses, and then shakes his head. His hands are shaking - _he_ is shaking - but he's had worse.

"I assume you remember how to stitch. I can't reach my back." Peter says, as Derek retrieves the first aid that is so rarely used. Peter gestures for the alcohol there, and after finding a gauze pad large enough, he douses it in the alcohol (which stings his nose) and then gets to work on the back of his knee. It's a precaution, nothing more. And with his jeans off, now that Peter can _see_ his knee, he sets his hands on either side of it, grimaces, and gives it a small wrench that makes him feel faint, but it shoves the bone back into proper alignment at least. Once done, he finally turns enough to let Derek see to his back. Peter ignores the level of trust this implies. He'd do it for Derek too.

* * *

Derek also considers Melissa McCall, but she definitely has good reason to _not_ want to help with Peter. Derek can't imagine Peter playing nice with anyone else who might become involved. Tension is already high enough as is evident by Peter's growl when Derek had swatted his hands away and took control in working off bloody, dirty jeans. Peter seems to incite the worst in people so it'd be best to keep the player count as low as possible in this. Derek just hopes that they can manage it.

"Of course I remember how to stitch," Derek gruffly responds as he grabs his own first aid kit. He's used it more for his Betas than himself. Derek has always preferred to - when possible - leave injuries to heal on their own. Even if it's a gaping hole, Derek may shower, dress and then collapse into bed and pray that he falls asleep. Stitches can help ease some of the tedious healing so Derek doesn't blame Peter for asking for it. There's also the issue of these wounds being caused by an Alpha as they will take longer to heal.

Peter preps his own gauze and works on his mangled knee, disinfecting it and then setting the bone. Breaking bones, dislocations... Derek is used to it, both causing and being afflicted by them. Even so, the sound still gets to him. He busies himself in disinfecting the needle and threading it. When Peter turns to offer his back - which has claw marks but only two or three gashes that would benefit from stitches - Derek gets to work. He actually finds the back and forth action somewhat calming. He remembers his mother teaching him, but that seems like another life now. He swallows.

"I know you're older and more experienced than them," Derek begins as he finishes stitching the first gash. "And I know how much it pains you for me to remind you, but you're a _Beta_ and we're dealing with an _Alpha_. Going by yourself was stupid."

* * *

Calling Derek had been admitting to needing help, which is not something that Peter ever admits to. Even now, not able to walk, his pride burns that he'd called, but better a loss of pride than a loss of life. It still doesn't make this moment any less frustrating and he's not in what one might call the best of moods, but that Derek had come to get him, that his nephew hadn't left him to fend for himself even after how they'd last parted does mean something to him. The only issue is what it actually means. It feels daunting, too complicated to puzzle over for now, so he doesn't. He shoves it aside and braces himself, and so when Derek's needle digs into his skin, Peter only clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything.

Instead he lets Derek work, closing his eyes as the sutures pull deep gashes together. It's not pleasant, and Peter's aware that he's lost more blood than he's comfortable with, but it needs to be done. He'll live. So, jaw still clenched, he eventually reaches down for another large pad of gauze and bandages, and then painstakingly takes to wrapping his knee up.

The bone will heal in a few days, but the gashes will take weeks due to how they were inflicted. So he wraps the injury tight (as the flesh is too torn to stitch back up) and while he grimaces, it's done before long. When he finishes, Derek finally speaks up and Peter contemplates whether or not he wants to listen. There's more to this than simply the Alpha and they both know it.

But to Derek's credit, he doesn't sound holier-than-thou. He sounds careful, like a part of him doesn't know if he's _allowed_ to lecture Peter. There's a part of Peter that wants to push that uncertainty, because he doesn't actually appreciate the lecture, but Derek is an Alpha. And while it might be a tenuous link at best, hardly existing, Peter is arguably his Beta. Or... maybe, at least.

Peter sighs, tightly. He could lash out, could cut deep, and he's not sure if he's going to even as he speaks.

"And who would have gone with me? You? Any of the others? At the first sign of an Alpha, you accused me. Forgive me for assuming any requests _might_ have been tactically overlooked." He frowns down at his knee, though some of the bite leaves his voice. "I caught the scent in town and decided to narrow it down. Admittedly I didn't intend to actually make contact. That _was_ a regrettable oversight on my account. But I assumed that any desire to patrol on my end might be taken as a desire to kill the damn thing and take his power. Was I mistaken?"

* * *

There's a risk in choosing to lecture Peter. Derek is younger than him. Peter does know more than him. Peter is his senior. Peter is his uncle. Growing up, Peter had been the one to teach him. More recently, Peter has slid into some other messed up role. It's complicated, but Derek doesn't know what to say. He's never been good with words or pep talks. He's usually blunt and straight to the point. He's rather bite the bullet most of the time or completely avoid it. Two extremes.

Derek begins on the second gash and he tries to not let the tension seep into his ministrations and affect the quality. As much as the pack may think he enjoys growling out lectures or reprimands, Derek's never liked it. He never has. After all, he hadn't liked being the recipient of such talks when he was younger and compared to Peter he _still_ is younger.

But what else is he supposed to say? The real questions, the real issues are far too dangerous to bring up. Even if this pisses Peter off, it's safer. This is what Derek is going with. He hears Peter sigh and Derek readies himself for the rebuttal that Peter is undoubtedly gearing up for. While Derek knows that the others wouldn't have volunteered to go with him, Derek would like to think that he would have sucked it up...

Peter pauses and Derek wonders if that's everything, but no, his uncle starts up, but this time his voice is at least less aggravated. Derek listens and he wonders if Peter is lying. Had it just been a matter of catching the scent?

_'But I assumed that any desire to patrol on my end might be taken as a desire to kill the damn thing and take his power. Was I mistaken?'_

Derek's eyes narrow. "And why _wouldn't_ you want that?" Peter's not wrong. Derek knows everyone had been thinking that, himself included. He pulls the needle through one last time and ties the thread off. "What bothers you more, _me_ being your-- the Alpha or _you_ not having as much power?"

His free hand comes to Peter's nape and he squeezes as he focuses on draining some of Peter's pain. Black crawls up his arm and Derek flinches. It never feels good, but he thinks Peter would do the same for him.

* * *

This will escalate. Peter doesn't necessarily want it to because he's not feeling up to the argument right now, but as he's so often been taught, life waits for no one, not even for him. Life has a funny habit of kicking him when he's down, and he doesn't doubt that this will be any different. So he says his piece, and he feels Derek tense behind him. Peter's too exhausted to do the same, but he doubts that Derek is.

So when Derek answers, Peter's both braced and expecting the rebuttal. Honestly, it's nothing he hadn't expected. He's truly surprised that Derek doesn't say _more_ if he's being honest. Instead Derek accuses him of what Peter had suggested - that Peter had been doing it for power - and while Peter's lips do thin, he doesn't argue. He grimaces as Derek pulls the thread taut one more time before tying it off, leaving the gashes stitched as best as they can be. But Derek's _question_ is another matter entirely. That... Peter frowns.

He hadn't missed Derek's quick correction. A part of him should be ashamed, he thinks, but he's not. They're pack, but this dynamic has been rocky from the start. Peter goes thoughtfully still, because he can't really get up and walk away. Instead he gives Derek the benefit of the doubt and really thinks about it. He's just opening his mouth when Derek's hand comes down on his nape to squeeze, and relief washes through him.

Peter turns back to Derek quickly anyway, and after a pointed count of a few seconds, he reaches back and swats Derek's hand away. But before Derek can take it as a _complete_ rejection, Peter cuts in dryly. "You're a martyr. Don't take it all; I know you would if I let you."

Peter eyes the black creeping up Derek's arm with a small frown. Somehow it's _this_ conversation that feels the most... he's not sure. Raw?

"Anyway, I doubt that either answer is going to win me any favors. You lack confidence in your leadership abilities, which translates to your pack. It makes it difficult to see you as the authority. To me. But whether or not you believe me, it's the lack of power that bothers me."

Peter looks down at his hand, sliding his claws out with a mild frown. "Even were you unfaltering in your competence, you can't be everywhere at once. Power is the difference between life and death. Or worse," he adds, bitterly.

* * *

Does he want to know the answer? Well, obviously Derek wants to know because he just asked. He's not in the habit of asking if he's not invested in the answer. Derek remembers that he used to be more curious and outgoing. He was more like Stiles, actually (except considerably less awkward). Confident and more talkative -- at least with family he'd been comfortable with. When Peter had hung out with him, they'd talked for hours, well into the night, about girls and sports and traveling. It had felt good to have a best friend, a confidant even, because Peter may have been his mother's brother, but Derek knew that Peter was on his side and wouldn't rat him out.

Things had changed after Paige. Derek had pulled away and that hadn't stopped Peter from intervening with the young hunter though...

Derek would have never imagined his uncle capable of killing Laura. Peter had sought power, had needed it to enact his plan of revenge. Derek doesn't know if he can truly understand, though. He doesn't tick like that. He never killed Peter for power. He'd killed Peter to stop him, to save his friends, to punish Peter. Not that it had done much good.

There is a pack bond of some sort that exists between them. Derek doesn't know if it's from _before_ though, a familial bond. While Derek has never been the epitome of some awesome leader, he knows the others would - when push comes to shove - listen to him... Or at least he hopes. He can't say the same for Peter. Peter only asked for help because he'd needed it and Peter is in no condition to walk out despite the subject matter. Derek doesn't know what he considers Peter... Is Peter _his_ Beta?

A hand comes to swat his own away and Derek bristles, eyebrows drawing in until Peter goes on and calls him a martyr. Derek relaxes at the sarcasm, his hand dropping to his side. Peter's not wrong. Derek would have taken more. Surprisingly, Peter actually continues and there isn't any cutting tone present. Peter answers him plainly and while Derek initially wants to scoff because Peter giving him a straight answer to something so serious feels weird.

Peter claims that it's the lack of power that bothers him most. Derek doesn't know if it's the truth, but he accepts it at face value for now.

_'...You can't be everywhere at once. Power is the difference between life and death. Or worse.'_

He could put away the first aid equipment. They don't need to continue this line of conversation. Derek knows this and yet he knows it's likely important to continue it. His instincts feel wary, but Derek doesn't like to run away from fights.

"You know, you might want to think about what being pack could mean for you," Derek begins carefully. "I'd like to think the others have your back, but you aren't very good at making friends and you're exceptionally good at making enemies." A twitch of a smile graces Derek's face. "If you can't rely on them, trust me. We're family. And I... I don't want anything happening to you."

* * *

How long has it been since he and Derek have had a candid conversation? He's given advice, or commands. He's pushed and taunted, and he's brought them both to blows before. He exists on the outskirts of the pack like a scavenger, as irritating as that comparison is. Yet Derek does try on occasion, and Peter can't say that he's made it easy. It's been years since he and Derek had actually conversed without innuendo, blood, blows, or raised hackles, and Peter tries not to dwell on the past, on how close he and Derek had been once. On how many sacrifices and mistakes Peter had made for him. Mistakes he would make again in a heartbeat even now.

Yet despite not wanting to think about it, it's difficult to ignore right now. This isn't a conversation that Peter can limp away from, and while memories are nothing more than twisting claws right now, Derek _had_ helped him. Maybe Peter owes him a few minutes. Which he does give.

It takes Derek time to answer, and when he does, he sounds wary, like there could be a landmine anywhere, and Peter takes it as a good thing even if something in his instincts doubts that. Peter does listen, though, and while he scoffs at the notion of being _pack_ with the group of teenage-ingrates, he does give a small half-nod of acceptance at the notion of making enemies well. He's always been particularly skilled there.

Yet when Derek continues, when he says - with that small smile lingering - that _he_ doesn't want anything happening to Peter, Peter goes still, and then shoots a sharp look at Derek.

Peter's quiet for a long time, as if thoughtful, but he doesn't look away from Derek once. He hardly blinks. Then, almost at once, he seems to draw himself up again. "The others have my back as long as they can stab it," Peter says flatly, with no particular blip of emotion either way.

"Not that I can blame them. No, Derek, there's no forging pack bonds there. They have too many negative memories of me. I've hurt them, and I've used them. And I don't regret it. I doubt there's anything I can offer them that would be a suitable explanation." Peter trails off, and when he looks at Derek again, there's a hint of something a little more complicated in his eyes.

"But _you_... you've either gotten very good at lying to me, or quite a bit has changed. You _don't_ want me hurt," he adds, and while his voice is flat with disbelief, there's a question there. "I called you tonight because I figured I had maybe a ten percent chance you wouldn't leave me."

* * *

The gashes on Peter's back are stitched and his mangled knee wrapped up as best as it can be. Derek could leave Peter here to fend for himself. Derek could pick him up and deposit him on the couch or even kick him to the curb for his stupidity. They don't _have_ to be engaging in this conversation, but maybe it's been a long time coming. Derek may believe he doesn't run away from real fights, from real threats... But hasn't he been attempting to avoid this sort of real conversation with Peter for years? He should have had a real conversion after Paige. Before Kate -- during Kate. After the fire. After Peter came back. Instead it's been accusations and taunts, it's been thrown punches and growls.

But recently... recently they've been edging into dangerous territory in every way imaginable. Crossing lines and Derek opening his mouth and revealing things that shouldn't be revealed. And yes, Derek is well aware that the others in their pack will likely never trust Peter. Peter would have to spend his entire life being a saint to even have a chance, but he's still pack. At best, Peter is tolerated because of his connection with Derek and the occasional times he's offered up useful information. It's beneficial to have Peter around. Some of them must see that. It's when Derek admits to _not_ wanting anything to happen to Peter that seems to shock his uncle.

Peter doesn't respond immediately and that's actually more worrisome than a quick retort. Peter stares him down. When Peter addresses the others, Derek doesn't want to think of them as backstabbers, but he wouldn't put it past some of them. Peter than changes directions and Derek steels himself for where this is headed. Derek isn't exactly surprised by Peter doubting him. "We're the only Hales left," Derek states.

"I still remember who you were _before_." Before the fire. Before Peter killed Laura. Before Peter terrorized them. Before he'd been forced to kill Peter. "I didn't kill you because I hated you - I hated what you'd _done -_ I had to stop you. That's it." Derek frowns and looks away, busying his hands in cleaning up the first aid supplies. "You should know there's a part of me relieved that you're back. I want you around."

* * *

This is a pedestal made of glass. One wrong foot, one good kick and Peter knows he could bring the whole damn thing crashing down. The part of him that enjoys being chaotic is tempted, as he can practically hear the scream of suspicion in his mind. Derek _doesn't_ want him hurt. Derek _doesn't_ want him dead. The concepts feel like they're hitting a brick wall in Peter's mind, like he can sense that they're there, but that they're so far away or so _other_ that it's impossible to grasp it. And yet Derek insists. He steels himself, then forges ahead like a reckless pioneer, apparently unaware that what he's saying _does_ come as a surprise.

Peter's eyes narrow slowly, as _he_ is the one who is so often manipulative. Derek is many things, but a good liar isn't one of them. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve, making it easy to reach, and yet as Peter sits there and practically stares his nephew down, he doesn't sense any deception. It doesn't make sense given what Peter has _done_ , as even loyalty to a dying line and a rich history don't excuse what Peter's done. He's never expected it to. So he can't help but suspect this.

But Derek seems genuine. He's not lying as far as Peter can tell, and he looks away with genuine displeasure when he finishes talking about killing Peter (Peter's throat gives a small ache of remembrance). And it's that small movement that _really_ drives home that Derek is telling the truth. For whatever awful reasons he has, he does want Peter around.

Peter studies him for a long few seconds and then he looks away, like the very _concept_ has robbed him of his usually-sharp comments.

"I could remind you of what I've done," Peter says, but he doesn't, because bringing Laura up now would be like slashing Derek across the face. "I'm not the man I was any more than you are, Derek. I don't cut up your steak into triangles or check your closet for hunters. I don't help you get dressed for a date, or watch _terrible_ monster movies with you anymore." But he remembers. And were he given the chance-- ... no. Too complicated. Peter sighs. "You're loyal. Your mother would be proud."

* * *

As much as Derek wishes the task of cleaning up the first aid items would help distract or focus him, it's a lost cause. Still, he doesn't stop and he knows that Peter can listen to his heartbeat to discern the weight of the truth. What he has admitted _is_ the truth. They both know he's always been a lousy liar. Games and manipulation aren't his thing -- they've always been Peter's. And Peter is undoubtedly still dangerous. This could end up fucking Derek over. Derek isn't sure how much he trusts his uncle, but Peter is still family. Peter is all he has and he'd offered his throat to Peter and Peter _hadn't_ slashed it open.

Peter wants more than _just_ power. It's a terrifying realization. Painting Peter as a villain, as the monster... It's been easier.

Derek is grateful that Peter doesn't see fit to remind the both of them what he's done. As if Derek could forget? There's no forgetting Peter's atrocious actions. Neither of them are who they used to be. Peter mentions steak, helping pick out his clothing, the shitty monster movies... and something in Derek's chest aches, like a phantom wound. The past had been simple. It hadn't been perfect, but now that it's impossible to ever have, it's been given a rosy tint. Derek misses the family home, loud but cozy communal dinners. He misses the monthly game nights playing Monopoly and Trouble.

' _You're loyal. Your mother would be proud.'_

Derek's hands stop. It's the good kind of ache that lances through him. Derek then forces himself to continue cleaning up. He doesn't know what to say in response.

"Yeah, there's no going back," Derek comments as he sets the first aid kit aside. "Hang on," Derek warns and then goes to pick up Peter again, carrying him bridal style up to his room, careful on the steps and ignoring any protests from Peter as he sets him down on his bed.

Derek strips off his now bloodied shirt and tosses it to the floor before looking back at Peter. "You'll have to lay on your side, I guess."

* * *

Derek doesn't want Peter dead. The knowledge still feels alien in Peter's mind, like new information trying to rewrite over old that has been long-established. Yet try as Peter might to change the reality in front of him, try as he might to give some sort of excuse for Derek's words, none come to mind but what they had been: the truth. He isn't sure if that makes this better or worse.

Peter's been bitter and burned for a long time, and while he does have loyalty to Derek, it's hard to properly quantify what that means. He doesn't want Derek dead. Peter has actively fought _against_ that notion, and as opportunistic and cruel as he knows he can be, he doesn't doubt that he'd kill anyone who tried to kill Derek at this point. Peter may not have morals that match Derek's, but his own code has worked to include his nephew. He simply... hadn't expected that to be reciprocated.

He's been in pain and lost far too much blood for this conversation.

Derek, either by coincidence, or because he agrees, finishes cleaning up and sets the kit aside. Then he gives Peter a warning and, grimacing, Peter braces himself without needing to think about it. Derek's arm winds around him and Peter lifts his arm around Derek's neck again, and he grits his teeth against the ache in his knee. It's less now, but being moved is still _drastically_ unpleasant. But it does help to draw Peter's thoughts away from the nostalgic cast they'd begun to sink into. For once, aside from a grumbled, " _lovely_ ," Peter is quiet as Derek carries him.

Yet when Derek's scent suddenly _surrounds_ Peter, he looks up and blinks, glancing around. Derek's room. Peter tenses slightly, because he'd been anticipating a guest room at the farthest ends of the loft, or a couch, not _Derek's bed_. Peter shoots Derek a look as he's lowered down, and while his eyes do flash once in pain, Peter manages to regain his control before long.

"You know you don't have to put me _here_ ," Peter says, and his attempt at casual falls short. Derek's scent is overpowering here, and to Peter's surprise, it's not necessarily unpleasant. Despite his protests, Peter does gingerly ease himself down onto his side, careful not to put too much pressure on his knee. "I'm sure if the others found out, there would be Hell to pay. Risking your safety, and all."

* * *

There are other options than Derek's bed and Derek's room. He could have dropped Peter off on the couch (although he imagines it might not be the most practical given the injuries). Derek could have deposited Peter in the guest room. Is this a good idea? Probably not. Is it a smart decision? Debatable. Does it feel right? Yes. Derek's instincts are telling him to keep Peter close to him. There's a chance that it could help with Peter's healing, too. Derek has seen that Alphas can have a positive effect on the wellness of their Betas. And while Derek isn't 100% sure Peter is even _his_ Beta, it's worth a shot.

Derek has thought long and hard about whether or not he had wanted to kill Peter or had simply needed to stop him. Derek's never been great with elaborate plans. Maybe there could have been an alternative to slashing Peter's throat out but Laura... Laura hadn't had any alternatives. Derek thinks that losing Peter had really driven that realization home. Derek had lost his uncle's mind after the fire, but once Peter had been dead and the Alpha status transferred, _everything_ of Peter had been lost. Derek had had no family and it hadn't been any better.

Having Peter come back like Lazarus had been rather unexpected and shaken Derek up. It had been easier to distance himself from his uncle, to be wary and gruff. Now things are... Rather undecided between them.

"You're hardly a risk to me right now," Derek says plainly if not a little dismissively. He works off his belt and considers his jeans. They're dirty from running and Peter is stripped down to his overpriced boxers. Derek works them off with no fanfare as he watches Peter actually settle down. After kicking the clothes into a pile, he walks over to the bed and climbs onto it. The bed is large - a California king - so it's very doable for them to _not_ be in contact, but that's not what Derek is planning. Derek pulls the blanket up and eases it over them both. He then slides in closer, turning to his side to be able face Peter.

"Proximity... it can help," Derek mutters as he gets into Peter's personal space, careful to not jostle the injured leg.

* * *

Derek's response draws a small furrow to Peter's brow, something almost indignant, but as he lays there on Derek's bed and breathes in the familiar scent, he can finally admit to himself that he's exhausted, and that Derek is unfortunately correct. While he could lash out with his claws, Derek has the strength on him right now, and Peter's movements will be hampered by the stitches and the bandages. Much as he hates the idea of it, he really _isn't_ a threat to Derek right now. So while the dismissive response makes something in his chest want to growl, he doesn't bother. Instead he grunts, enough to show his displeasure, but not enough to sound like a neanderthal, and he opens one eye to watch Derek.

Days ago, Peter would have taken the opportunity to look his fill. Right now, Derek stripping out of his shirt and jeans is just a necessary task. Peter's not injured enough to ignore that his nephew is attractive, but given the scope of the conversation the last few minutes, he's not feeling particularly teasing. So instead he watches as Derek walks back over to the bed and them climbs down onto it, which... honestly, Peter _should_ protest on principle. But the bed is large and something in Peter's instincts does feel more settled with Derek there. While it's not enough to openly call Derek his Alpha, Peter does suspect...

He's quiet as Derek eases the blankets up over them, and Peter assumes that will be it. Then Derek slides in _closer_ and Peter sends Derek a small, suspicious frown that holds virtually no heat. He understands what Derek is doing even without being told, but that doesn't mean he needs to like it. Or rather... like _that_ he needs it.

" _If_ you're my Alpha, yes, it would." Peter murmurs back. "You're willing to try even without knowing for sure?"

* * *

Right now, Derek doesn't care about the potential consequences of the others finding them or finding out. He's the Alpha. He has his reasons. When Peter isn't being pretty or vindictive, Peter can actually be helpful. It's rare, but it's something. Right now Derek isn't thinking about saving face with the rest of the pack. He's just glad that his damn uncle didn't get torn to shreds. Derek is pretty sure that the other Alpha would ensure that Peter was thoroughly destroyed and he doesn't want to see if Peter can perform another magic trick and come back to life.

It's weird to be in bed like this, but increased healing by proximity is a known thing to both of them. The last time they'd been in his bed together... He'd had his head in Peter's lap. Derek had even fallen asleep. Peter could have killed him in his sleep, but Peter hadn't. Derek could kill him right now. Derek could end whatever is possibly starting between Peter and him. The others would likely believe him if he claimed that Peter had attacked first.

_'You're willing to try even without knowing for sure?'_

"Yeah, obviously," Derek says but he doesn't sound as gruff as he usually would. He doesn't know the in's and out's of pack dynamics concerning _him_ as an Alpha. Derek could probably ask Peter, but he's unsure if Peter would give him the correct information regarding this _specific_ issue. There is some bond between them, yeah, but is Derek _Peter's_ Alpha? Derek thinks _acceptance_ plays a part in that and he's not so certain Peter wants any of it.

He looks at his uncle, taking in a few age lines, the paleness, the clear signs of pain. They're both different, both changed and aged, but Peter is still Peter.

"At least you look like less like a twink now," Derek comments for lack of anything better to say.

* * *

Derek had taken a good half of Peter's pain, so it's not quite as sharp as it had been, but he feels exhausted. Peter's made a name for himself in the pack, of rarely-if-ever succumbing to injury. Whenever he's been injured in the past, he's gone off on his own to lick his metaphorical wounds. He disappears for a few days, no one asks around about him, Peter heals in his own time, and when he shows back up again, it's with a few quick-witted comments, looking the picture of health. He has a reputation in the pack... and _this_ isn't it. He can't remember the last time he'd let himself be in pain around someone else. He has a hazy recollection of an ambulance and Stiles, and he knows Derek had killed him, but aside from that, he's been good at compartmentalizing.

He's not now. He can feel the burning in his back from the stitched gashes, and his knee won't stop throbbing and aching. It's less now, but having the back of his knee practically ripped out isn't a quick fix even for a werewolf. If he's being honest, he feels weak, exhausted, and sick to his stomach, but weakness and vulnerability are not states that Peter permits himself to be in. This time he has no choice, and Derek knows that.

So when Derek insists that he _does_ want to stay despite the chance that Peter _isn't_ his Beta, Peter frowns, at a brief loss for words, but doesn't protest. He could shove out, could growl, but he'd lost a fair bit of blood and the bed is comfortable and his nephew is radiating the heat he'd lost in the preserve. This is uncomfortable; he's reminiscing _far_ too much, but he feels a little more settled, even if this isn't comfortable.

And then Derek's final comment breaks through his walls, and Peter's taken aback _just_ enough that his eyes snap open and he's letting out a startled half-laugh before he's decided if he wants to.

"I don't know if I should be concerned that you know what that is, or argue that it's still a niche. I always appealed to _someone_ ," Peter mumbles shamelessly. "But I suppose you're right. It _was_ unfortunate. You get very little respect when you look sweet. I prefer this."

* * *

Laying here with his uncle isn't bad. Derek understands that Peter doesn't want to be here, though. Peter detests weakness, vulnerability. Peter doesn't like having to rely on anyone else but himself. Peter also hates that someone is bearing witness to him in such a state. Like this, with Alpha wounds that will take some time to heal, Peter is at his mercy. Derek can't find it in himself to be snarky about it. It had honestly shaken him up to see Peter bloodied and hurt. He doesn't want to lose any more family, any more friends.

Despite taking some of Peter's pain away, there's still the lingering scent of distress and discomfort. Derek isn't going to force the issue, he's not going to ask if Peter wants him to take more either (he knows Peter won't accept it). Even so, Derek doesn't think his half-comment, half-observation is going to necessarily go over well.

But, he seems to have surprised Peter enough and Peter's eyes open and a small laugh follows. Derek can't help but relax at the amusement. He remembers, when he was younger, he liked amusing Peter. He liked getting the older werewolf to laugh or smile and not have it be at his expense. Peter's response is... somewhat complicated. It's true that Peter has always been attractive. Derek doesn't know if it's unfortunate, however nor does he know for sure that lack of respect correlates with looking sweet, but he can see it. He knows how most people see him -- stereotypically hot, a good fuck, but that nothing much is going on in his head.

"You appealed to me... back then," Derek admits with a small shrug of his shoulder. "Stupid hero worship."

* * *

It's not what Peter had expected to hear, and despite the throbbing ache in his knee and the sharper pain in each of the claw marks, he can't help his amusement. Derek isn't candid with him as often as he once had been, and he's almost never candid in front of the Betas in the pack, so despite how clearly uncomfortable this situation is for him, he's still amused at Derek's bluntness. Derek's not wrong; he _had_ been what he supposes would qualify as a twink when he'd been younger - before the fire had wreaked havoc on his cells and quickened his aging. Still, Peter's not wholly bitter; he likes the attention he gets like this more, even if he hasn't really let himself enjoy it.

He's not expecting the conversation to go anywhere; he feels Derek relax next to him and Peter believes that will be it. It's a fair trade. Derek had made a joke, Peter had laughed, tension halved. It's simple. So when Derek goes tellingly quiet and then tentatively adds on that Peter had appealed to _him_ back then, Peter's wry smile fades into something both surprised and a little confused. He blinks, thinking back, and in that context... he supposes he can see Derek's point. At the time Peter hadn't _really_ noticed, but in retrospect he can see it.

It's enough to draw a small smirk onto his lips now. Pale and weak as he is, not even severe injury can destroy his ego. "I wouldn't say your hero worship was misplaced. I suppose I _did_ treat you more like a friend than a nephew. Considering how no one would take you seriously, it makes sense that you'd have clung to me. Some things never change," he adds, and there's a tired-but-teasing lilt to his tone. He still sounds amused. "You _do_ know I'll remember this in the morning, don't you? I'm in pain, not under the influence."

* * *

Derek could leave Peter here. After all, his bed is more comfortable and Peter is injured. Peter should be fine now (as time is what he needs) and Derek could... could sleep anywhere else. The guest room. The couch on the main floor. He could even go out and find someone to take _him_ home, too. It might help relieve some of the stress, but Derek is wary with fucking humans if he's not on top of things. Humans are delicate and staying in control, even now, can be difficult. Still, there's a lot of options other than laying here and having some damning almost heart-to-heart with his uncle.

But Derek doesn't want to go somewhere else. Even if it's Peter and Peter is a complicated knot that Derek doesn't know how to untie, it's still family, it's still something that his wolf longs for -- to be near pack (or whatever Peter is). This is where he wants to be. Derek wants to be next to Peter and making sure his uncle doesn't get any more bright ideas.

He doesn't know why he admits what he does. He'd been a stupid kid back then and he'd looked up to Peter. Peter had been many things to him -- friend, uncle, babysitter. Of course Derek had loved all of his family but he'd spent most of his time trailing after Laura and hanging around Peter, funny how one extinguished the other. Derek's not at all surprised by the smirk that graces Peter's face nor the comment about his hero worship supposedly not being misplaced nor the jab about him still clinging.

"We can't be under the influence," Derek says simply. One negative aspect about being a werewolf, some would argue. It had bothered him when he'd been snot-nosed teen and trying to drown out his misery. "You should get some sleep," he adds on, softer.


	4. Your Beta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek doesn't seem to know what to do. He looks half-stunned, half-uncomfortable, like he isn't sure what the next step is. Peter can't really blame him. He doesn't know what the next step is either, and for a few seconds, they're at an impasse.

Peter doesn't intend to sleep. He has a rather unpleasant relationship with sleep. After six years in a coma, one tends to view bouts of unconsciousness in an unpleasant manner. It's not something he mentions, and he's not about to warn Derek that sometimes he wakes and it takes him a few seconds to realize he's aware. That he's not locked away in his mind or under the ground. Oh, he can walk a wonderful walk and talk a compelling talk, but trauma waits for no man. Still... like this, in a fair bit of pain and yet warm under blankets that smell like something familiar, if nothing else, Peter winds up surprising himself with how easily he begins to settle.

It's the blood loss, he reasons, when he lets his eyes slide shut. It's the pain, he inwardly adds when his limbs start to feel heavy. And while he's not consciously aware of falling asleep, not even the steady ache in his back and leg are enough to wake him up. Which is odd. Peter's generally a very light sleeper.

But he doesn't wake up this time. Call it the blood loss, the pain, the stress, his body shutting down to focus its resources on healing. It likely doesn't matter. What does matter is that he sleeps, and while nightmares and shadows do linger, and while he does shift restlessly here and there, he never wakes, calmed by Derek's familiar scent (and unknowingly, the hand upon him).

He sleeps through the night. He doesn't even wake up when Derek stirs in the morning, the sunlight spilling out into his bedroom, warmth heating the blankets comfortably. He doesn't stir when Derek's hand slides away, though he does shift a little when Derek's lips press to his forehead.

Peter sleeps through the sound of Derek's footsteps, and through the sound of the door closing. His dreams are neutral, no more than shadows and shapes. Yet when the space beside Peter on the bed begins to cool, when Derek's scent begins to ease to something almost faded, shadows and shapes take a slightly different form.

Later, Peter will deny it to his second grave, but his pulse, scent, and the electric blue in his eyes as he jerks upright in bed, nearly throwing the blankets off of him denote a sharp panic. He looks around wildly, aware of the flare of pain in his body, but when Peter looks down at his clawed hands and flexes them, the sight of _movement_ is enough to break the brief spike of panic.

Luckily reality quickly follows, and while he's still breathing a little hard a few minutes later, he gives his head a hard shake, blinks, and looks around, his memory finally catching up with him. The Alpha, the preserve, _Derek_ , and pain-filled ramblings.

Which is when Peter finally tunes into himself, and notes - with some surprise - that the wounds on his back don't feel nearly as bad despite likely having jerked them when he'd sat up. He's _exhausted_ , and he's reasonably sure he'd kill for a shower, but he doesn't feel _that_ bad, all things considered. Huh.

* * *

A part of Derek is tempted to return to his bedroom and see if he can crawl into bed. He even thinks about cooking breakfast, but after a quick look at the contents of his kitchen and fridge... Yeah, that won't be happening. Derek grabs a glass of water and forces himself to drink it, to do something normal while Peter, stitched up and wrapped up in his bed, sleeps. It's early, but the loft's large windows offer a spectacular view of the sun playing with a few clouds. Derek could wait down here. He could grab a shower, too. Instead, he pulls on a rather threadbare sweater and quietly leaves.

He does plan on picking up something for breakfast or at least coffee, but he ends up driving to the entrance of the preserve that they'd came from last night. Derek parks and glances around. He tries to quiet his mind as his eyes flash red. Derek is still, stretching out his senses, straining his ears to pick up any sound out of the ordinary.

He doesn't detect the foreign Alpha, at least, not overly. There's definitely a subtle stench that permeates the air, but it's not in his vicinity. Derek decides to go for a run along the perimeter anyway. It feels good to be working his muscles, moving and blowing off some steam. He has no idea how Peter is going to be when he gets back. Probably more antagonistic because he'll be feeling less like near-roadkill. Derek runs for a good half hour before deciding that he can't prolong the inevitable any longer. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, he returns to his car and drives to a local diner that _he_ happens to like. He orders takeout and gets a large assortment of things - scrambled eggs, pancakes, french toast, waffles, bacon, sausage, an omelette, mixed fruit. He's unsure what Peter is going to want to eat and Derek suspects that despite the variety his uncle will find something to complain about still. With the food packed into containers and stuffed in bags, Derek heads back to his loft.

He thinks about bringing Peter down to the main floor, but carrying Peter seems supremely unpleasant. Derek grabs cutlery, napkins and shoves them into the bag before heading up to his room. When he walks in, Peter is awake and looks better which is good.

"Got breakfast," Derek says by way of a greeting. "Not that I want to make eating in bed with you a habit, but I figured you'd prefer it to being carried downstairs again." Derek sets the bags down beside Peter.

* * *

It doesn't take Peter long to realize that Derek is no longer in the loft. While it does take a good stretch of his senses, Derek's scent is stale on the air, proving that he'd been there recently but that it's already fading. Resigned to the knowledge, and still feeling exhausted as his body slowly wakes up, Peter dismisses thoughts of Derek and how he'd slept the night before in favor of taking stock of himself.

He does try to get up and he even manages to half- hop to the bathroom in order to use it, but he only just manages to begin to peel the bandages from the back of his knee when the exhaustion gets worse. He looks at himself in the mirror, quietly wishing he had his razor as his face already has stubble on it, but he doesn't trust himself to stand for too long at any given time. So while Peter bemoans the fact that he can't do much, eventually he manages to limp his way back into the bedroom and gingerly sit back down. His body is sore, but he doesn't feel as bad as he had the night before.

It takes some effort to peel his bandages away once he's seated, and while the sight of his knee makes Peter grimace, he doesn't feel the same sharpness of agony when he flexes his leg. The bone has already mended enough to walk on even if the Alpha-inflicted injuries are still being difficult. But Peter finds himself a little surprised that the wounds have scabbed over, that they're not still bleeding the way they likely should be.

It means... something that Peter isn't ready to think about. So he dismisses it as unimportant.

It's almost an hour later when Peter hears the sound of footsteps approaching the door, and while he begins to tense, all it takes it breathing in the scent on the air for Peter to relax. He can smell food, but more importantly, he can smell Derek. He looks up, still tired, but he's clearly more alert than he had been the night before when Derek walks in with his version of a peace offering. Peter tries not to think about how Derek hadn't _needed_ to do this for him, but he doesn't really succeed.

"You figured correctly," Peter says. "I'll try not to make a habit out of this, but I'm not about to turn it down." Peter gestures to the bed beside him, and when Derek joins him, Peter shoots him a quick look (as if trying to judge to see if there's an angle here) and then he takes the bag to look at what's available. It's not necessarily gourmet, but Peter hasn't eaten in nearly a day; he's not about to be ridiculously picky. He takes the fruit and an omelette before bothering to look back at Derek.

"You smell like sweat and the preserve. You didn't go out to try and find the Alpha, did you?"

* * *

After everything, the prospect of simply eating breakfast with his uncle is sort of amusing. Derek has thought a little on what's happened between them: the fighting that had turned into weird arousal and Derek then submitting, the counting, Peter calming him down, Peter making him eat and getting him to sleep, him pinning Peter... Derek may be thinking about it, but he's not coming up with any conclusions or answers. Honestly, he doesn't know if he wants any either.

Peter is older than him, Peter is sometimes even a mentor to him, but Peter isn't bringing any of this up to talk about so Derek assumes that it's not something that should be talked about.

From the looks of it, Peter's been up which is a good sign, it means the wounds have made some progress in healing. Peter still looks haggard, but less shaken and drained (which Derek feels honest to god relief over). It had been uncomfortable being reminded of someone else he could potentially lose.

Picking up an assortment of breakfast food from a place that _he_ liked had seemed to be a better option than Peter demanding food and Derek not having anything readily available. Derek comes and sits down on the bed and Peter looks through the containers until he decides on what he can apparently tolerate.

The question has Derek stiffening. He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking the closest container for himself and then handing appropriate cutlery to Peter.

"Not exactly," Derek answers. "I stopped at the preserve, didn't sense him. Decided to take a run."

There's no reason to beat around the bush. Now that Peter is awake and seems more on top of things, Derek feels like he ought to fall back into being more reserved. He remembers what was said last night, the almost confessions. He assumes Peter would prefer to act like it was business as usual, so that's what Derek will attempt to do.

* * *

Derek stiffens beside him and Peter doesn't bother pretending that he's not looking at Derek. He eyes him quietly, as if assessing the guilt in Derek's eyes, and when Derek finally answers him, Peter listens casually to his pulse and deems the answer at least the truth. He doesn't fail to notice that Derek's tone is a little clipped and that tells Peter all he needs to know about how Derek believes this conversation will go. Despite being exhausted, Peter is almost amused to see him so stiff. And while he doesn't want to think about much that had happened the night before, he can't deny that Derek looks far less comfortable than Peter feels.

It's for that reason that Peter takes pity on him. As Derek gets his food and Peter tucks into his own, he finally brings up the Alpha in the preserve. While the conversation is not pleasant, Peter details the scent to Derek - an earthen, sweet-and-wrong scent - and he sits back as much as he can and launches into a description of what he'd done the night before. He gives Derek the information he hadn't been able to last night, from the radius that Peter has been scenting the Alpha in town, to as much of a physical description as he can give. He frowns when Derek asks him what had _happened_ , and while Peter does hesitate, eventually he (reluctantly) gives in.

With a low sigh, he details the encounter, from Peter stumbling across the Alpha, to the ensuing fight. He monitors Derek's expression as it pinches in places but doesn't mention it, and when Derek has all the information, they lapse into silence as they eat. It isn't particularly comfortable, but Peter does notice distantly that as Derek settles beside him - one of his knees touching Peter's thighs - that the pain begins to go down again.

He doesn't let himself think about what that _means_. Not at first, not even as the day progresses and Peter beckons Derek to bring him a map of the town and the preserve. They spend a few hours mapping out the scent trails for a visual representation. It's relatively engaging, certainly enough to keep Peter's mind off of the discomfort.

But when Derek speaks up that afternoon - just as the sky is beginning to bleed the first hints of orange through the window - and offers to drive Peter back to his apartment, Peter opens his mouth to answer in the affirmative, and then he pauses.

With a slow flex of his leg, he calculates his pain, and... he honestly isn't sure how he feels about what this _means_. He could keep it a secret; he's tempted to. But he _also_ wants to be able to walk and function on his own again soon. His expression pinches in reluctance and he's quiet for a moment, but when he looks back at Derek, there's a confidence in his eyes that he doesn't _really_ feel. Still, Peter can fake it well enough.

"I'd rather stay here," he says casually, like it's not important. He turns back to the map, though they'd finished it almost an hour ago. "I'm healing quicker with you here. My leg isn't broken anymore."

* * *

He is telling the truth. Derek doesn't want to meet the Alpha by himself and in such a state. If he's to kill it, he'll need to be in much better shape. He may be an Alpha, but it's not like Derek is accustomed to fighting _other_ Alphas (he's not). He's not looking forward to the encounter either. He'd be stronger with his Betas, but he doesn't want to put them at risk. Strength in numbers, he gets it, but after Isaac last week and Peter last night, Derek knows he'll have to do something soon. He can't wait around for more of his Betas to get hurt.

So they eat and Peter decides to be helpful which Derek is greatly appreciative of. The food is the right amount of greasy and savory and it makes the conversation more bearable. Because Peter is actually willing, Derek tries to keep his tone from becoming _too_ demanding, but he does need as much information as possible. In the end, even though he encounters a little reluctance, Peter does give in and share about his personal encounter with the Alpha.

Derek somehow manages to keep any acerbic comments to himself (which feels like a feat in and of itself) and when Peter wraps up, they finish eating. Derek is quiet, contemplative, thinking up the easiest way to get at the thing by himself but also to have a backup plan if he fails. His planning is stalled when Peter asks for a map, but it's a good idea to have a visual mapping of the scent trails for everyone.

He's been spending more time alone with Peter, but this is by far the longest duration. It's a realization that Derek isn't sure what to do with, so doesn't think about it. He does the opposite: he offers to drive Peter home. It makes sense to Derek. Peter is doing better and Peter probably would prefer to go home. Derek watches Peter test out his leg and Peter's expression looks conflicted, but then evens out.

And then Peter replies and the truth comes out. Peter is healing quicker _with_ _him_ which means...

Derek's eyes widen in realization. He then pulls the map away from Peter and chucks it to the floor, not wanting Peter to be distracted. Derek reaches out, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder, the connection seems important.

"Then you're my..." Derek begins softly. The statement doesn't need to be finished. They both know.

* * *

Derek is his Alpha. It's what's he's implied, what's been left unsaid, and Peter doesn't know how he feels about it as he sits on the bed, his leg no longer broken, and the gashes in his skin likely closing more than they would have otherwise. Peter's broken bones on his own before. The last time, he'd holed himself up in his apartment and he'd been down for a good four days while it had healed. That a veritable shattering of his leg (more or less) has healed in a day? The last time that had happened had been when Talia had been alive. Peter knows what that means even if admitting it feels... uncomfortable.

Is he ashamed? No. But it says more than he wants it to. Before, Peter had been fine being a Beta. He'd preferred it. But since the fire, since being trapped and vulnerable and burned to insanity for six years, the thought of relying on anyone other than himself hasn't even crossed his mind. It's been practically unheard of. And now... now he has proof that that's not quite true. He can fool himself, but he can't fool his instincts. As much as he's tried to live on the edge, to dismiss the goings-on of the pack, apparently things have changed.

Peter catches the way that Derek stiffens beside him, his eyes widening. Peter pretends not to notice, looking at the map in front of him. Then it's being yanked away. Peter makes a small sound, irritated, maybe uncomfortable, and it takes him a few moments to look over at Derek, but the weight of his nephew's hand on his shoulder makes it clear that he _does_ have to give in. Frowning, quiet, Peter finally looks over at Derek out of the corner of one eye, his expression guarded but there's no deception in it. There can't be.

He closes his eyes, and when they open again, they're bright blue. "Your Beta," Peter confirms. "And you're apparently my Alpha. Color us both surprised."

* * *

Honestly Derek hadn't been expecting it. They're family first and foremost, and yeah, there's always been some lingering pack sentimentality, but he'd never believed that Peter would be _his_ Beta and he would be _Peter's_ Alpha. However, Derek knows that Peter wouldn't lie about such a thing. Peter may be trying to play it off nonchalantly, but that's because it makes his uncle uncomfortable. Derek understands that much (and he's in the same boat). But Peter knows his healing and from the looks of it, Peter is healing quicker than he would have if left on his own and facing Alpha wounds. The proof can't be denied, Peter's wearing it.

Derek has spent most of his life being a Beta and being a part of a pack. Derek had liked the simplicity of having an Alpha to look up to, an Alpha to rely on... He has significantly less experience being the Alpha and it's more than a little daunting to be his _uncle's_ Alpha, but here they are. It is what it is, and Derek can't change it unless he up and kills himself which he just can't do. Derek won't and apparently Peter won't take it from him either.

Derek doesn't know what to _do_ with this information. It makes him feel... uncomfortable. Surprised. At a loss. But also humbled. When Peter turns to look at him, the expression isn't the worst Derek has seen. And when Peter just confirms it outright with bright blue eyes, Derek's chest feels tight, his eyebrows drawing in as he tries to work out what to do or say. Derek's never been good with the emotional and it's no different here. Action, though? He's better at action so Derek slides closer to Peter, his eyes bleeding red as his hand lifts off Peter's shoulder and comes to brush through Peter's hair.

"I can offer you a distraction," Derek suggests.

* * *

This isn't what Peter had wanted. He wants to say he hadn't been surprised, or he wants to deny that it's the truth, but the more that he thinks about it, the more he reflects on the situation, the more it makes sense. He's not _pleased_ with the knowledge in the way most would be, perhaps. But thinking about it... he hadn't called anyone else but Derek. It had been a slim chance that his nephew would come, but Derek had still come for him. He'd still carried him from the preserve, had still let Peter share his bed, and spilled his secrets. He's let Peter bite him and shove him face-first against the floor, and he'd still fallen asleep when Peter had urged him to. Whatever the bond between them is - pack or family, or both - Peter can't deny it now.

Derek doesn't seem to know what to do. He looks half-stunned, half-uncomfortable, like he isn't sure what the next step is. Peter can't really blame him. He doesn't know what the next step is either, and for a few seconds, they're at an impasse.

Then Derek's hand slides up as he eases closer. His fingers slide through Peter's hair, and something catches in Peter's chest when Derek's eyes bleed red. Now that he's aware of it, he can feel it in his instincts, a small twist of something that feels like comfort, like _pack_ , and it's almost worse that he knows, now. Peter's frown is mild, but he can't deny a flicker of curiosity at Derek's offer. Curiosity and interest.

"A distraction. Map-making, planning distraction, or..." Peter's head tilts, one eyebrow lifting; he feels the way Derek's fingers move in his hair. "Broken vase distraction? You owe me a new vase, by the way. That one was expensive."

Peter shoots Derek a look, half-amused, but it's clear that it's just a cover for whatever this moment _is._ Even Peter knows that. And, half in curiosity, half on a whim, he meets Derek's eyes, pauses, and then lifts his chin _just_ enough to bare his throat. It's not willful submission, but it could be. It's... _acknowledgement_. Peter's going with that.

* * *

Offering to take Peter's pain would likely aggravate his uncle, so Derek awkwardly offers something _else_. He doesn't know if he should though. Derek doesn't know how Peter will react to it. Peter had enjoyed when Derek was weak and the power had shifted between them. Peter had enjoyed both experiencing and exploiting it... Derek doesn't know if his uncle had necessarily enjoyed calming him down or looking after him, but that had happened as well.

Derek doesn't exactly know what he's all offering _now._ Obviously they're limited in what they can even do given Peter's state and frankly Derek should be mortified that he's even considering the possibilities, but somehow he's not. It's weird, it's strange, but as his fingers stroke through Peter's hair it's far from horrifying. (Derek is fairly certain that him doing anything _to_ Peter feels less scandalous than what Peter has done _to_ and _for_ him.)

Derek can't say that he's surprised by Peter's small-but-curious frown and he can't claim to be surprised that Peter is somewhat beating around the bush and blabbing about map distractions then mentioning the broken vase. Even so, Derek doesn't remove his hand. It feels good to be in contact with Peter, his Beta.

But then Peter gives him a playful look like he knows exactly what he's doing (and of course he does). Their eyes meet and Peter does surprise him by lifting his chin and baring his throat. He's clawed open that throat before. Derek can remember doing it, he can remember his claws raking through the skin and blood gushing out around his fingers.

Now, Derek leans forward and his nose caresses up it as he inhales the familiar scent of Peter. "You threw me into the vase, asshole," Derek points out before brushing his lips across Peter's pulse point in what could barely be called a kiss. "Not that I'm blaming you."

His voice is deeper but lacking in any heat. Derek's fingers grip into longer stands at the top of Peter's head and he tilts his uncle's head back further before blatantly kissing at Peter's neck and letting his teeth scrape.

* * *

It's a test. What between them _isn't_ a test these days? There's no reason for Derek to need to distract him. Peter hadn't been in need of distraction, but they both know that it's easier to assume that someone has _need_ of a distraction than to admit to their own need. Typically it's Peter hinting and pushing, coaxing Derek into doing what Derek secretly needs even if he doesn't want to admit to it. Peter wonders if that's the case here, if he's pushing Derek because he knows that his nephew needs this, or if perhaps _he_ needs it and Derek is the one coaxing him. The thought isn't necessarily pleasant, but Peter's content to have no answers now.

It means there's no immediate flare of aggression when Derek slowly leans in and noses his way up Peter's throat. Peter's instincts seize, his pulse picking up, because he knows better than anyone that this is a vulnerable position. And unlike most people, Derek _had_ slashed his throat out. That he's letting his nephew in close like this is a miracle, and the way his instincts feel like they're twisting around him makes that all the more apparent. They want to snarl and lash out defensively, and yet now that Peter knows who his Alpha is, there's a distant, buried, burned side of his instincts that wants to soak up the attention. It feels wrong to submit; that hasn't changed. But it also feels right. It's conflicting.

Then Derek's voice rumbles out against his skin and Peter feels the grip in his hair tighten just enough to bare his throat more. His pulse picks up - a quick spike of uncertainty - before it picks up for a different reason when Derek kisses his neck, scraping teeth and stubble in a way that makes Peter's breath catch. Agitation and contentment and arousal prickle under his skin, all vying for dominance, but the attention isn't _unpleasant_ , and Derek's lips are warm. Peter tests the hold in his hair, then lets himself relax a little. His hand lifts up to press against Derek's waist, holding him there.

"To be fair, you _did_ come to my apartment to instigate a fight," Peter points out, but there's no bite in his voice. It sounds a little lazy even to him. On some level, he must like this. "Though in retrospect, I'm not complaining. Much. I miss that vase." Peter's hand grips tighter, and he gives Derek a small pull, feeling the press of teeth against his throat a little harder. It should be terrifying, but it's not. Derek had told him he doesn't want Peter dead. "Though I suppose you more than made up for it."

* * *

Derek knows that he's started this and it's weird to be at his uncle's throat again. Derek remembers how pissed off Peter had been when Derek had pinned him against a wall and forced him to submit. Derek had even kissed the back of Peter's neck. Peter had taunted him about being kind, about being gentle and _human_ \- as if being human was an insult (which it is to Peter). While Derek can obviously appreciate hard and fast everything, while they can _both_ take it, maybe it's not always the best or only way to do things.

Even though there is some hesitancy on Peter's part, Peter is letting him do this. The realization slams into Derek and a heat slides over him. Derek knows that it's arousal, but it's not _just_ arousal. There's a deep satisfaction at having his Beta - _Peter_ \- be willing to be touched and psuedo-submit to him. Derek can imagine that it's also a conflict because hadn't he felt conflicted doing the same with Peter? There's no way that someone like his uncle could easily do this for anyone.

Peter's hands come to his waist and hold him and Derek doesn't mind. Peter doesn't sound bothered by his comment as there's no actual snarky attitude in Peter's words. This is just a part of the game. This is Peter playing along. And when Peter grips him tighter, pulling him a little closer and making Derek's teeth dig into Peter's neck, Derek can't help the groan that escapes him.

"If you didn't complain, you wouldn't be you," Derek murmurs before kissing up to Peter's ear. "And I guess I l like you." That said, Derek nips at Peter's earlobe.

* * *

There's a part of Peter's mind that whispers that this isn't _much_ different from the way Derek had shoved him against the wall before. Submission is submission, and yet as he sits there with Derek's beard gently scratching his throat and the growing scent of arousal on the air, Peter doesn't feel the same flood of anger and panic he'd felt the last time. Yes, he's conflicted, and yes, it's confusing. Derek is _his Alpha_ , but that doesn't change the fact that Peter's instincts have been cored and burned. Yet much more than last time, Peter feels settled.

He breathes in the scent of arousal on the air and his grip on Derek's waist tightens again, though only in a small squeeze before he relaxes it. There's still a small thread of discomfort present at the thought of anyone at his throat, but the slow press of lips and scrape of stubble are much different than pointed fangs or claws. Derek's scent is settled and warm, his pulse quick but not with anger or cunning. Peter feels an answering stirring of warmth inside, and when Derek's teeth press against his throat, the groan his nephew lets out more than covers the brief spike of uncertainty.

But more than anything, it's what Derek _says_ that finally settles something in Peter's chest. His instincts will likely always be a lost cause, but hearing the words 'I guess I like you' as Derek's teeth nip at his ear... it does mean something, much as Peter would like it not to. He closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation, and as odd as this is, the warmth of Derek's mouth still feels good. Peter's hand slowly moves up from Derek's waist, trailing over his back, his shoulder. When he reaches Derek's nape, he pauses for a moment, then lays his hand over it, giving a small, encouraging squeeze.

"Do you now? I suppose the feeling is mutual." Peter wets his lips, thoughtful, almost amused. "If you're wanting to make out, you needn't limit yourself. I'm not about to break apart."

* * *

There can be no disguising what this is. Derek isn't breaking down and it's not Peter pushing and seeking to distract or meet his blows. Derek had offered this as a distraction, but Peter hadn't exactly been in _need_ of one. This is Derek willingly touching Peter, willingly caressing and kissing and letting his teeth meet Peter's skin. In some ways it feels like a celebration of acknowledging their pack bond. Derek isn't going to share that with Peter, however.

And the words Derek says are the truth. He does like Peter. That doesn't mean that Peter is necessarily a good person (he's not), but there can be no denying that Derek wants Peter alive and around him. Peter, for all his faults, does have a few good traits. Peter is resourceful and Peter cares about him, Peter _knows_ him... That means more than it should, probably.

Peter's hand slides up, roaming over his back and shoulder and Derek does tense a little when Peter's hand reaches for his nape and squeezes. It only takes him a second to register it as an encouraging action. Derek relaxes against it. Peter's tone is light and Derek can't fault him that. Not being overly serious is sort of Peter's thing. But when Peter just up and mentions _making out,_ Derek does pull away and look at Peter. Derek had started this. He knows that. Peter isn't even instigating, but he's welcoming it...

Derek decides, his hand moving down to cup Peter's now stubbled cheek. He's already damned, so why not? He leans forward and kisses Peter on the mouth, chastely at first, just a simple brush of his lips and then Derek is going for it, kissing Peter harder with a groan as he shifts closer.

* * *

Peter might not be instigating, but he's definitely encouraging, as is his wont. Where his nephew tends to want to rush ahead into any given situation, Peter prefers a subtle encouragement, or setting the pieces in motion to play out as they will. This is no different, though as he looks at Derek, feeling each scratch of Derek's beard, and the warmth of his lips, he does have to admit that there's nothing malicious in Peter's encouragement this time. With others, he doesn't hesitate. With Derek, like this, Peter thinks maybe letting Derek call most of the shots will get him further, will negate some of Derek's doubt in him.

So he suggests, and when Derek draws back to look at him, Peter meets his eyes steadily, one eyebrow lifted as if in question. It takes Derek a moment to decide, but when he does, he goes for it. There's no hesitation as he eases himself in closer, and Peter idly locks in the sensation of Derek's hand cupping his cheek. It's almost tender, and though Peter isn't about to say so, he's not quite used to tenderness. It's likely apparent, but vocalizing it makes it real. Even so, the first brush of Derek's lips, while pleasant, is almost too chaste. It _suggests_ things. Emotional things. So Peter's relieved when Derek seems to change his mind and _kisses_ him.

It's a _good_ kiss. It's much better than Peter had expected of Derek. And unlike the biting kiss that Peter had stolen when Derek had been curled up on his bed, this one is real, and mutual. He's not expecting the heat that slides through him, and the groan that vibrates from Derek's throat has a sharper breath escaping from Peter's nose as he curls his hand harder against Derek's nape.

Maybe Derek had instigated, but now, with the warm press of lips and scratch of stubble, Peter pushes back just as much. Derek kisses him harder and Peter matches it, taking the opportunity to nip at Derek's lower lip whenever Derek gives him the opportunity. His fingers slide up to curl into Derek's hair and Peter gives a small tug, easing Derek closer as he flicks his tongue over his nephew's lower lip, as if testing to see if he'll get bitten if he deepens the kiss more.

* * *

Derek has had his fair share of kissing experiences. He's never been exactly selective with gender (although women tend to have fewer complications overall). Since Paige and Kate, Derek has never seriously considered any real relationship. He doesn't trust himself, not in selecting someone appropriate or in keeping them safe. It's far simpler and safer to blow off steam via hookups (although he's been doing less of that for a while now). Going to a club or a bar and looking like he does... It's been pretty easy and it turns out that a lot of people are looking for the distraction of a good time with no strings attached.

But is that _this_? Derek knows Peter. Derek is related to him for christ sake. This isn't exactly a no strings attached thing. If anything, there would be enough string to hang them both with (not that that would kill them). Derek doesn't know what this is, but he's never had all the answers, he's never even had half of them. He's rather excellent at making bad decisions and as much as Derek would like to _claim_ that this is happening because _Peter_ is a bad influence, Derek knows Peter hadn't instigated this at all.

No, Derek has done this of his own volition and as Peter's hand grips tightly against his nape, Derek feels his uncle meet his kiss with equal roughness. It's not a coy, playful thing. It's not a kiss to seduce either. It's heated and challenging, but it's not a fight for dominance. Derek doesn't pull away when Peter nips at his bottom lip. He doesn't stop the kiss when Peter's hand lifts to his hair to pull. And when Peter's tongue swipes against his lip, Derek truly commits to this. He guides Peter back to lay on his side, only pulling away from the kiss in order to stretch out next to him. Derek's arm worms its way under the pillow that Peter's head rests on and he looks across at Peter.

"You okay with this?" Derek asks quietly, his lips wet from their shared spit. He knows that it's a stupid question, but he can't but ask it anyway.

=

This is not the direction that Peter had expected this to take. He can't even say that he'd expected this to begin with. Yet if it comes down to whether he's fine with it or not, the answer would be a resounding yes. Had he expected this? No. Does he like it? Yes. It's certainly more appealing than sitting in the lingering pain from his healing wounds. His leg might not be broken anymore, but the ligaments are still mending in the back of his knee, and it still does hurt to move it. The stitches are an annoying tug on his back, and they _do_ hurt, but they at least hurt less like this. Still, given the choice between feeling his wounds and throwing himself into this impromptu exploration of apparently-mutual attraction? It's no contest.

While he protests initially due to uncertainty over what Derek is _doing_ , it doesn't take long for Peter to relax slightly. Derek guides him to lay down on his side, and while Peter does need to find a comfortable position for his knee, it hurts less overall. With a soft hum (his only acknowledgement that Derek had done well) Peter reaches down to let his hand come to rest against Derek's side. He's set to lean back in and kiss him again - in fact Peter's quite taken by the idea - and then Derek murmurs his question and Peter blinks before sending his nephew the _epitome_ of a dry look.

" _No_ ," he drawls. "I smell like arousal because I'm completely against this idea and it feels awful. _Really_ , Derek?" On the upside, Peter's sarcasm is likely proof that he _is_ feeling better overall. He gives Derek's hip a squeeze, encouraging and maybe a little blatant before he closes the meager distance between them in order to give Derek's lower lip a gentle nip that turns into a bite that's slightly less gentle. Peter ends it with a quick flick of his tongue, and then lifts an eyebrow as he looks at his nephew.

"Yes, you idiot. You're not about to break me; I'm not _that_ fragile."

* * *

Derek is aware that Peter isn't the type to go quietly into the night. If Peter wasn't okay with something, he'd put up a fuss. Peter loves putting up fusses, it's what Derek has known all his life, even. As a child, yep, in the shambles of a pack now? Check. As soon as the question is out, he knows that Peter is going to give him a rough time over it. Derek can't help it. He may be asking if _Peter_ is okay with this, but the question likely should be asked _at_ Derek (not that Derek wants to think of it or answer because he doesn't).

Peter shoots him an exceptionally dry and rather unimpressed look which Derek meets with an annoyed frown of his own. Half of him wants to just grab a pillow and smother his uncle for a bit to get rid of that expression. Derek _is_ aware of their arousal. Physically, they like this, that much is obvious. Sarcasm is Peter's go-to and Derek isn't surprised by it (although he is still annoyed). The hand on his hip squeezes and then it's Peter advancing and his mouth opening to nip and then bite Derek's bottom lip. A tongue flick later and then Peter is pulling away and calling him an idiot.

"I didn't think that I was going to _break_ you," Derek retorts, offended by the very insinuation. Peter isn't fragile. That's about the last word he'd use to describe Peter. Derek briefly thinks of just getting up and going, of calling quits on this, but Derek is feeling a little too caught up in the moment, of the realization and acknowledgment that Peter is truly a part of his pack, that Peter is his Beta.

"I know you're not fragile," he says, lower. Derek then slides his free hand between them, purposefully feeling for his uncle's dick underneath his boxers. Derek rubs insistently as he goes at Peter's mouth, kissing him with tongue and teeth and encouraging Peter's dick to harden further.

* * *

Being snippish and sarcastic is Peter's go-to, and he can tell immediately that Derek is less-than-impressed by him, but it feels oddly normal. He can vividly remember teasing his nephew when he'd been young, to the point of Derek angrily punching him on the shoulder with a growl. He'd often held Derek back and teased him even more, and eventually anger had become a game. This feels... close. Derek's expression is disgruntled enough to spark the memory, and Peter thinks about that as Derek's scowl deepens. For a second, he thinks Derek's going to up and go, but then suddenly Derek makes up his mind, and anger is replaced with something else. Something almost sultry. Peter lifts an eyebrow, intrigued.

And then Derek's hand slides between them, his palm pressing firmly over Peter's dick, and Peter's breath catches audibly in surprise. He stills, caught off guard by Derek's boldness, and then Derek begins to rub, a slow, unexpected friction that makes Peter's eyes slide halfway-closed in pleasure. He's impressed. While Peter had blatantly touched before and been glad to, Derek's held back from doing the same as much as he could. This is _bold_ for him, and it does feel good. Peter's slightly hard just from the kissing, but direct stimulation from a hand that isn't his? Not even he is immune to that, and even less so when Derek sees fit to take advantage of his distraction and kiss him.

It's a kiss as bold as Derek's hand and it takes Peter a moment to situate himself enough to return it. Each nip of Derek's teeth sends a quick thrill through him, and the sensation of Derek's tongue licking, and half-fucking into his mouth is... unexpected, perhaps, but more pleasant than Peter had been expecting. He kisses back, just as bold, neither of them apparently willing to give in. Even so, it's not too long before Peter's hips are twitching. He rubs himself against Derek's palm with a low sound, something close to a moan, and definitely something that even he seems surprised with.

It's that more than anything that makes Peter slide his hand from Derek's hip, instead reaching between them to press his own hand between Derek's legs, blatantly cupping and rubbing. Peter's mostly hard, his dick straining against his boxers, and he'd quite like Derek in the same boat.

* * *

In the privacy of his room, Derek indulges in this - in Peter. A part of his mind - the part that's definitely more human - wants to be appalled by his actions and by what he's started. Maybe he is slightly. After all, he'd questioned Peter, perhaps looking for some assurance for himself in the process. Peter, of course, hadn't exactly provided any (but Peter has before, Peter's reassured him).

Derek doesn't miss how Peter's breath catches when his hand makes contact with Peter's cock. Derek has touched cocks before, but this isn't just anyone's junk, this is Peter's, this is his uncle's. Derek rubs anyway. His touch is firm and Peter's dick is hot underneath the silk boxers. Derek's palm presses insistently, moving slow but assuredly.

Derek encourages Peter's arousal and kisses him roughly. It doesn't take long for Peter to return the kiss, meeting Derek's energy with his own. And Derek drinks up Peter's reactions, the way Peter actually raises his hips to rub against his hand and even moan. Derek's eyes remain red as he bites and sucks on Peter's bottom lip. When Peter's hand slides lower to his own bulge in his jeans, Derek gasps in the kiss as his cock hardens more.

Derek loses his rhythm for a moment before returning to it. He's not about to be outdone by Peter. He lets his fingers rub over the head of Peter's cock, circling a few times before slipping underneath. There's something freeing about doing this with Peter. Peter may be hurt, but he's on the mend. Derek doesn't have to hide anything either. Peter _isn't_ fragile. Derek pulls away from the kiss to drag his mouth along Peter's jaw and up to his ear. His hand squeezes Peter's cock.

"You're pretty hard," Derek whispers lowly.

* * *

It doesn't escape Peter that even though he _had_ touched Derek's cock before, it hadn't been directly. He'd kept the layer of Derek's boxers between bare skin and his palm, a quiet concession, maybe even a subtle allowance to keep Derek from lunging for his throat. They've kissed, they've bitten, Peter has bitten to bleed. Claws have scratched, they've definitely pushed one another, but there are certain things that neither of them have done yet. As Derek's palm presses firmly against Peter's boxers and rubs insistently, Peter wonders if maybe they'll be crossing a few more lines here.

To most humans, they already have, undoubtedly. Peter doesn't care. Frankly, it's hard to care about much with a firm hand rubbing his dick to hardness and insistent lips and tongue and teeth biting and kissing his lips practically raw. Derek sucks at his lower lip and Peter bites back a growl at the spark of warm pain that goes right to his cock, and he silently has to hand it to his nephew. Derek _does_ know how to kiss, and he's certainly not shy this time.

Even so, Derek clearly isn't expecting Peter to reciprocate. Honestly, he should have expected it. So Peter quite happily drinks down the gasp that breaks their kiss as his hand begins to rub just as blatantly. If this is all it is, Peter believes he'll be satisfied, but just as he's thinking it, Derek ups the ante by taking it beyond what they've done before.

He rubs quickly at the head of Peter's cock (which feels _good_ ) and then suddenly Derek's hand is _inside_ his boxers, warm fingers wrapping around Peter's cock, and the surprise of it makes Peter hiss sharply through his teeth. He's fully hard now, his cock aching, and when Derek kisses his way to Peter's ear, his voice low, Peter lets his eyes brighten to their answering blue (something that undoubtedly means _more_ between them) and growls back.

"Yes, that _is_ what tends to happen with this sort of thing, Derek," Peter drawls back, though it does sound a little breathless. And, not to be outdone, after speaking, Peter slides his hand up and then down again, working his way under Derek's boxers. His nails lightly scratch through the wiry hair there, as if enjoying the sensation. Then Peter simply wraps his fingers around Derek's cock, giving it a slow squeeze, an equally-slow stroke as if to learn the feel, and then Peter's fingers press under the head to rub. He's never quite been comfortable fighting fair, after all.

"Apparently I'm not the only one."

* * *

Is this going to be something that Derek regrets? Maybe. Probably. Derek has far too many of those, a long list - usually a growing list, too. Derek knows he needs to rise above it all, he needs to be better in general. Being the Alpha means there is a behavior or certain demeanor expected of him. There has to be. Thankfully for him, his other Betas only know him as an Alpha. Derek can remember how his mother had been. She'd been strong, but fair. She'd been steadfast, but loving.

Sometimes the ache of the dead feels like it's a bullet laced with wolfsbane, a wound that isn't so easily mended... but Derek wonders if they do ever truly heal. Peter's outside may not be scarred, but what about the inside? (It doesn't bear thinking about; he thinks he knows the answer anyway.)

They have talked. A little. But action and distraction are the name of the game here, and while Derek has opened his mouth, it's not necessarily to have any significant conversation. Pointing out that Peter's dick is hard is more akin to dirty talk for him. And Peter's cock _is_ hard, it's also hot and silky in his hand. Derek knows how this sort of thing would be perceived in the human world. Even distantly-related anything is frowned upon.

But bright electric blue eyes meet his own and Derek knows that Peter is more than just a killer. How could he ever simplify his uncle? Peter had saved him more than a few times when he was a stupid kid. While Derek knows that it would have only been a matter of time before Peter lost the golden eyes, Peter had intervened and lost them for _him_.

Peter's voice is low and almost sultry, but Derek is used to not thinking or considering Peter in such a way. Derek doesn't have a quip to deliver, but it soon doesn't matter because Peter's hand is slithering inside Derek's boxers and Derek's next breath shudders out of him. The touch is a tease, but Derek quickly hardens further.

Derek's brows pinch and he's quickly sitting up and letting go of Peter's cock to pull Peter's hand away from his groin.

"You just lay there," Derek explains, somewhat stiffly. His legs are folded underneath him as his hands reach back to Peter's boxers and he works on easing them down enough that Peter's cock springs out. He doesn't know why it seems imperative that he do this for Peter, but it does.

* * *

There are likely dozens of thoughts that Peter could be entertaining now but he isn't letting himself go down those roads. He can practically smell the wood burning in Derek's mind as his nephew looks down at him, his eyes blood red and glowing, a strangely calming counterpoint to the electric blue of Peter's eyes. Even though Derek's mind has begun to drift into choppy waters, and even though Peter _knows_ that, he doesn't let himself do the same.

As unexpected as this feels, he's still healing, still exhausted from the drain on his body. Plus, though he has no intention of admitting it, _he's_ still somewhat-shaken by the knowledge that his instincts have apparently consented to recognizing Derek as his Alpha. It's not just a hypothetical anymore. It's a reality. Peter doesn't know how to handle that.

So he doesn't. He touches Derek's dick, gives it a firm, bold stroke to feel the weight and girth, and he's halfway to making an off-handed comment about why Derek is so popular when Derek suddenly sits up and lets go of him. Peter watches, slightly disgruntled, as Derek pulls his hand away. Peter stills, relaxing outwardly but there's a sharper weight of calculation in his eyes that betrays his tension. Sudden shifts are rarely good. And, while Peter hasn't necessarily been with anyone since coming back, he knows the rules of this particular sort of engagement.

So he doesn't know why he's surprised when Derek breaks them.

Peter's eyebrows lift at the command (for that's what it is, even if it _is_ sugar-coated). He watches Derek curiously, a protest in his eyes, and then Peter lets out a soft, "huh," as if in contemplation, and he lets himself lay back on his side, sliding one arm under his head to serve as a brace for the pillow. He lets Derek work his boxers down, and there's no shame in Peter's eyes when he's laid bare.

Wetting his lips, Peter nods. "I suppose I can do that. And what will _you_ be doing in the meantime?"

* * *

It's definitely _not_ at all bad to have Peter touching him. Derek could easily let it continue to happen. Maybe he'd even get off. It's a possibility and he's not against it happening (which should be a warning, but the sound is far away). Derek just doesn't think he wants that right now.

A part of him, a distant judgmental voice, is squawking that he needs to pull the plug on the whole thing. He could do it, too. Peter couldn't force him. Peter wouldn't either. Peter has never started anything. Peter has never initiated anything out of the blue either. It's always been Derek coming to him and the knowledge sits uncomfortably with Derek, but it's the truth and he's not going to go deny it.

But he wants to do this for Peter. Peter who's his Beta and Derek knows that it's a shock to Peter as well. They're both equally stunned by this reveal, but the proof can't be denied. Peter's healing had been helped by his presence. On some intrinsic level, Peter's body recognizes that Derek is its Alpha. Derek has no plans on letting Peter down now. Peter looks slightly surprised by his command, one eyebrow lifting and Derek can practically see the protest wanting to seep out but somehow, for some reason, Peter relents and settles.

Peter doesn't look abashed or bothered by himself being exposed and laid out and Derek doesn't even want to think about what that could mean. The question posed to him has Derek acting before he answers. His hand reaches out and firmly wraps around Peter's erection again.

"Going to touch you until you get off," Derek informs him and strokes firmly up Peter's dick. Peter will feel better with this. This is something Derek can do and probably not mess up. So he concentrates on learning what Peter likes, Derek's eyes focus on taking in any indications he can glean as he works Peter with the intent of having him come.

* * *

Derek doesn't look particularly confident in himself, but Peter can't say that he blames his nephew. The situation is hardly ideal. For either of them (though Peter doesn't want to admit it). This had not been planned, despite the way they've interacted in the past. While Peter had been serious before, while he _would_ have fucked his nephew without much hesitation, that's not what had been needed, and the dynamic between them had been fake but at least superficially concrete.

This... this is not. This is neither superficial, nor is it fake. This dynamic just so happens to be as close to real as they've seen, and Peter's fairly certain that he's not alone in his disquiet over it.

But Derek doesn't hesitate. As soon as Peter's body is bared to him, something flickers behind his eyes and Peter wonders if Derek is trying to gear himself up. Then there's a hand wrapping boldly around his cock and Peter's lips part on a soft breath. He can't quite hide the surprise in that one sound, as baring himself to Derek's eyes is one thing. Having Derek actually react, actually _touch_ with _intent_ is another.

"I see," Peter answers, half-breathless. He looks down, watching with no small amount of fascination as Derek's hand begins to stroke. It's difficult to make the connection, that the hand around him first of all isn't his own, and second of all belongs to his _nephew_. It's good, though, a rush of pleasure building at the first touch. He watches, withholding most of his reactions (not out of malice, merely out of habit) but every now and then when Derek's hand twists around the head of his cock, or when he draws the foreskin down and swipes his thumb over the slit, Peter's breath catches, or he can't bite back a small gasp or moan.

"You weren't kidding, then. Good to know," Peter manages, trying to resist the urge he has to rock his hips. His knee is still sore, and his back isn't great either, and that makes it difficult to do anything other than let Derek touch. "Will you let me return the favor afterwards?"

* * *

Derek had been careless with Paige and because of him, because of his weakness, she'd died. He'd killed her. He'd been careless in getting involved with Kate. He'd been naive and blind and desperate for love. Peter, although he's hurt, isn't delicate like Paige. He's not human, but is he as ruthless as Kate? Peter killed Kate, claws slashing her throat out just like Derek's claws had done to Peter later that night. If Derek had a more twisted sense of humor, maybe it would be amusing to see it come full circle, but with how lonely and lost he feels, Derek can't manage even an amused snort about it.

His life seems like a mess. He's not a leader. He's nowhere near ready to take responsibility for his opinionated and often times aggravating pack, and yet there is no choice. He hadn't wanted to be the Alpha...

But he wants to take care of his uncle and he can at least manage this. A handjob is simple, so Derek attempts to focus on it. Derek has messed around with a few guys here and there, but they're generally not his go-to. Even so, he's touched himself enough (although it is markedly different touching someone else's dick instead of your own). Peter's cock is hard and hot and soft. There's no physical disgust present within Derek. Derek is consenting to this. He's started this. In his mind, he's aware that he'll likely beat himself up over it later, but later isn't _now_ because his eyes flick between watching Peter's expression and watching his own hand move over Peter's cock.

Peter isn't showy or loud (which is somewhat surprising, but on second thought, maybe Peter is too much of a control freak to want to be compromised like that). Derek does learn and elicit a few responses from Peter, however. Derek has always prided himself in his observational skills during sex. Fucking well has always been important to him, because if he at least pleases one partner, maybe he's finally doing something right...

The question about Peter returning the favor has Derek's hand momentarily stilling. He's not disgusted by the offer or idea, but... "It's not important," is what Derek answers with. His hand then resumes stroking, speeding up and becoming more familiar with the feel of Peter's dick.

* * *

It's different, being the subject of such focused attention without it having been Peter's angle. True, he's not really been intimate since his resurrection, but anything he'd managed in the past had always been on his terms. He's good at the subtle art of manipulation. Deciding he'd wanted a blowjob in his youth had been his choice, and going out or finding someone to indulge him had _also_ been his choice. This - Derek's hand wrapped around his cock, stroking with surprising boldness for someone so reserved - is different, and Peter's not entirely sure how he feels about it.

He's never been a passive participant in intimacy. He's never been the one _out_ of control. Even when he'd gifted control to another, it had been on his terms. This is different, and given how injured he still is, the stray thought that Derek holds _all_ the cards should be terrifying. Peter wouldn't go that far. Is it pleasant? Perhaps not. And yet each stroke is firm and exploratory, and while he's the one reacting, he's also the one being gifted pleasure that he hadn't anticipated. The urge to jerk his hips, or to arch into the touch is present, and when Derek _stops_ to answer Peter's question, Peter allows himself a slightly-irritated exhale. Noted.

"For now," Peter allows, and lets himself relax back against Derek's bed as best as he can.

The touch of Derek's hand soon returns, and Peter feels the hot drag of Derek's hand over his cock speed up. It's a little rough, a little raw, but Peter doesn't ask if Derek has any lubricant, or for him to spit on his hand. It feels more connected like this (which is an odd thought) and as Derek explores and tests, it doesn't take long for him to really get the hang of it. Derek is a quick learner. All it takes is a small hitch in Peter's breathing, or a soft moan for him to redouble his efforts. A few times the repetition borders on overstimulation, but Peter chases the sensation, the muscles in his abdomen flexing a little and each of his breaths deepening the longer Derek works his cock.

At a focused twisting of Derek's wrist around the head of Peter's cock, precome beads at his slit, and Peter's oddly fascinated by the sight of it on Derek's fingers. At a squeeze near the base of his cock, Peter damns his knee's protest with a low sound - almost a growl - and arches his hips. It feels _good_ , and even without verbal confirmation, Derek has to know he's doing well. Were Peter not intentionally holding back, he's fairly certain this would be over far too quickly.

* * *

Providing a distraction - jerking Peter off - is something Derek can do, so he does it. He may often be a lousy Alpha, conflicted and too quick to spring into action at times, but orgasms (and the kissing before that) are simple actions to take. They're in Derek's toolkit. Simple as they may be, Derek is fully aware that it's kissing and touching _Peter_ that's occurred here. Peter is far from simple. There's this unlabeled _thing_ between them. Peter is his Beta, yeah, and while there is a pride concerning that fact - his wolf pleased by the confirmation - it doesn't necessarily provide any more answers.

Even hurt and healing, Peter would return the favor. Derek has no doubt about it. He doesn't really _want_ that, however (not now, at least, he can't speak about later). Derek doesn't want this to become about him. He'd been wrong about Peter's intention in tracking the Alpha, Peter had been stupid to go by himself, but Peter is still pack, still his Beta and his uncle. Derek actually does care. He's said as much to Peter, too.

It's to stave off any further conversation that has Derek making the decision to kiss Peter again. It's definitely not because kissing Peter had actually been _good_ (read: his uncle had been a slut before). Derek leans down and he kisses, bruising and hungry because Peter can take it. Derek can smell a few drops of precome and it has his own cock aching. There's also an urge to _taste,_ to lick the salt tang of Peter's skin but Derek definitely isn't going to do that.

Any small sound that Peter makes, any small movement like a flex of his hips, Derek enjoys. It's him that has brought them out. His hand strokes and squeezes and his mouth kisses, teeth and tongue not shy. He can smell Peter steadily grow closer and it's for that reason that Derek breaks the kiss with a soft growl and the flare of red eyes that Derek says, "C'mon, Peter, I want you to."

* * *

The kiss that Derek catches Peter's lips in is unlike those before it. It is sudden and deliciously, bitingly hungry in a way that seems to filter all the way down into the core of Peter's instincts. Given the way that Derek's breathing sharpens, that his focus dials up, Peter doesn't think he's alone in the sudden rush that the kiss brings. While before he might have drawn back, or offered up some small protest, he doesn't feel like doing so now. Not with Derek kissing him like he's attempting to devour him, and not with Derek's hand jerking his cock with quick, unrepentant movements that make sensation coil sharply deep in Peter's body.

The mix makes him feel restless, makes his control fray like Derek's just taken his claws to it. Peter isn't loud, but a slight edge of something desperate does begin to filter into the softer, muffled sounds that he makes against Derek's lips as Derek kisses him and Peter hungrily kisses back. It's a sharp explosion of senses, aimed to drag Peter to the edge whether or not he wants it, but as Derek kisses him and jerks him off with sure, fixed movements, Peter finds that he doesn't care as much about the control of this moment. Derek had intended it as a distraction, and that's exactly what it is as Peter feels himself getting dangerously close, the scent of arousal sharp and thick on the air.

It's with a rougher scrape of teeth and a growl that stabs right through Peter's instincts like Derek's suddenly pinned through them with bared claws, that Derek pulls back from the kiss. Dazed and breathless, Peter has a half-question lingering on his lips when Derek's eyes flare bright red and everything else is dashed. It's not a command in the strictest sense, but it's coaxing and encouragement, and Peter feels _everything_ react inside. He feels his instincts settle, feels the desperate desire to comply, and it twists with the more human flare of arousal at the sight and the coaxing. Peter isn't given much of a choice, but even as his control snaps, he doesn't think he'd wanted one.

Peter comes with a punched-out groan that seems to strike all other sound from the air. He feels pinned as his back arches, as one hand throws out and Peter digs his claws into the skin at Derek's side. He feels wet warmth under his fingertips, knows he's scratched Derek bloody by mistake, but Peter only grips harder as Derek strokes him through each wracking shudder of orgasm, come painting his skin and smearing wet and hot over Derek's hand.

* * *

Peter is his Beta. Alphas take care of their pack, but Derek can't see doing this for the others. A handjob, kissing. It's not a big deal. They're practiced motions that don't necessarily have to _mean_ anything. Most of Derek's previous sexual experiences have been meaningless. One-night stands to blow off steam with very little questions or personal information exchanged. No repeats. Derek purposefully never goes to the same bar more than a few times.

But this isn't like his one-night stands. While Derek may be stressed, he doesn't plan on getting off (even though it may help and Peter has offered). Things with Peter have been tense since Isaac had gotten hurt, since Derek had attacked and pinned Peter to the wall accusing him... The clawed up drywall still hasn't been repaired. Even so, Peter had called him upon getting hurt and they have cleared some of the air between them. They've also discovered by way of Peter's quicker healing, that Peter's instincts do think of _him_ as Peter's Alpha. Derek feels a lot of things about that discovery that he may think on later.

For now, it's easier and simpler to focus on pumping up and down on Peter's dick with the intention to not stop until Peter comes. An orgasm won't help the healing lacerations, but it's a distraction at least. Derek's not entirely intending to give a command for Peter to come, but it is what he wants and the growl and flash of red speaks enough.

Peter comes, his hips jerking up and Derek doesn't look away, he doesn't blink. He's never seen this expression on Peter's face, he's never seen this wrenched out pleasure and it's something Derek wants to take in. It almost feels like he's _owed_ this because he's the one that has made Peter climax.

Derek doesn't wince when Peter's claws press into his skin. His hand slows a little, but he strokes Peter through his orgasm, set on providing a more than adequate finish for this. Peter's come is on his hand, hot and accusatory. It's only when Peter quiets that Derek glances down at his hand and pulls it away.

It's a complicated mix of shame and satisfaction that he then he feels. Remaining here for some sarcastic remark from Peter is out of the question. Derek merely clenches his jaw as he gets up without a word and leaves a bedridden Peter and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.

* * *

Orgasm is simple. It's a definitive end point. It's the period at the end of a sentence, leaving everything else secondary in its wake. That's how Peter feels as he's trapped in that moment, as pleasure carves through him like it had been cut free with Derek's claws. It's only during the rush of pleasure that Peter's mind helpfully informs him that he's not _had_ a partnered orgasm since coming back from the dead. Everything has been too messy, too complicated to even think about it, and so this moment had been more than just a simple indulgence. It's pointed, meaningful in a different way, and it absolutely serves as the distraction that Derek intends it to.

His nephew doesn't half-ass it either, which Peter had expected. The shock of actually going this far is something that Peter had assumed that Derek would recoil away from as soon as it happened, but no. Derek keeps stroking until Peter can't physically handle it anymore, and even then, he knows the precise moment to stop. Were Peter's mind any sharper, he might have been impressed. But as it is, his muscles seem to go lax at once, aftershocks running through him as he breathes harder, still dazed, his instincts feeling uncharacteristically docile in his chest.

Peter doesn't stop Derek from standing. He lifts a hand up and presses the back of it over his eyes, half to give Derek privacy, and half to steal some back for himself. He listens through his heavier breathing as Derek runs the water in the bathroom, undoubtedly to wash his hands, and Peter considers whether or not it reads as offensive. Not really; it's practical, and as come begins to cool on Peter's skin, he considers yelling out for Derek to bring him back a cloth of some sort, but he doesn't.

Despite much evidence to the contrary, Peter _does_ know when to keep quiet. He'd seen the clench to Derek's jaw upon standing, and he'd smelled the hint of negativity mixed with the satisfaction. So instead of calling out or antagonizing Derek, Peter just closes his eyes and breathes, coming back down from this unexpected detour, but _also_ still quietly reeling over the clear evidence that perhaps Peter isn't quite so packless as he'd assumed.

 _That_ thought is the one that feels complicated and haggard in his chest, but even as he goes still, he can feel the hook in his mind. He can feel the pack bond there, tender and new like freshly-healed skin. He has a lot of thinking to do. They both do.

* * *

Derek doesn't look at his disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. He twists on the taps and the water runs lukewarm, but it will do. Even as he shoves his hands under the faucet and the water begins to rinse off the evidence, the smell of Peter's come still lingers. Derek rubs his hands a few times before going for soap. The soap bubbles froth up between his fingers and somehow in contrast to the smell of arousal, sweat and come, it seems too harshly clean. Derek doesn't like it.

Still, Derek almost viciously scrubs at his hands anyway. He does his best to clear away the evidence, but he knows it's useless. The memory is there and Peter is in his bed, healing, mangled leg and dirty from the handjob. A part of Derek is tempted to just leave the loft and go for a run, but there's a good chance Peter would attempt to be an idiot and push himself. Derek doesn't want to be blamed for that.

No, he has to go back. Now that he knows he's Peter's Alpha, it's his responsibility to ensure that Peter continues to heal up. There's really no pleasure in Peter being wounded and on his bed. It's actually disconcerting if anything. Derek splashes some water on his face and then grabs a hand towel, wets it, rings it out and steels himself.

Once back in his room, Derek throws the hand towel at Peter. Peter's hands and arms work just fine, Peter can clean his own dick off.

* * *

The aftermath is going to be interesting, Peter cautiously decides as he listens to Derek cleaning up in the bathroom. In his humble approximation, the water runs for _far_ too long for Derek to simply be washing his hands, but then, Peter understands a bit about avoidance, especially when it comes to his nephew. Though they're older and very different from the people they had been all those years ago, Peter can't help but remember Derek doing something similar when he'd not wanted to talk. Peter has vague memories of Derek practically locking himself in Peter's bathroom after his mother had sent him to stay with Peter briefly, exasperated by her son.

Those had been the days where Peter had ordered pizza to coax Derek out and had ribbed him idly until Derek had snapped at him. Vaguely Peter wonders if the same might work here, but there's sweat cooling on his skin, and despite the throb of his injuries, his limbs feel loose and he's not sure where his phone has got to. Likely still in his pocket.

It's the water finally shutting off that gets Peter's attention. One eye opening lazily, he glances over at the doorway, and when Derek comes back in, Peter takes one look at his face and then his instincts give a small jerk of alarm. He reaches up without thinking and catches the cloth thrown at him with a small start. Peter promptly sends Derek a dry look but he _does_ reach down and clean the tacky come off of his chest, grateful to be free of it at least.

He doesn't say anything until after his dick is clean, sensitivity be damned, because there's only so much indignity that one man can handle, and having a come-slick dick whilst having a normal conversation isn't going to happen. Peter folds the cloth when he's done and reaches over, setting it on the side table.

"If you want me to return the favor, just ask," Peter says idly, "but considering the Lady Macbeth act in the bathroom, I'm going to guess that's not on your radar." Which leaves them... where? Between the revelation just a little while ago, and the conversation they'd had the night before, Peter's feeling a little less certain than he'd like to be.

"Changed your mind about wanting me around?" He asks, and while his voice sounds flippant, sounds like an obvious little desire to remind Derek that he _does_ remember last night, there's a hint of something else in his voice. The confession had been... touching.

* * *

There's not much to do while his uncle cleans up. Derek doesn't want to stand there and simply watch. It only takes a quick glance for Derek to figure out something he can do which is cleaning up the takeaway boxes from breakfast. So Derek busies himself in gathering the styrofoam containers up and chucking them. He also relocates the map that had been thrown off the bed from earlier.

If this had been any other awkward fallout between them, Derek would have simply left. It's still in the realm of possibility to do just that. Derek wouldn't be surprised if Peter was expecting such an action from him either. Derek is still tempted to because there exists a part within Derek that is at a loss of what to do when Peter is actually dependent on him, when Peter is weaker. He'd hated seeing his comatose uncle for that very reason.

But this is the situation they find themselves in. Derek's crossed the line and Peter hadn't even pushed him over. Derek offered up the "distraction" and Derek had kissed Peter first. These are the facts. Just like it's a fact that Peter is now done, his dick tucked back in and the hand towel put aside. The offer of returning the favor is met with an eye roll from Derek before he glances over to Peter. Lady Macbeth act? Derek's not too sure what to say in response to that.

It's the next question that has Derek tensing. Has he changed his mind about having Peter around? Derek's tension gives way to movement and Derek heads back to the bed, crawling onto it and shifting over to Peter. Derek's arm tucks under Peter's neck and as he settles on his back.

"No, haven't changed my mind," Derek states, a note of finality in his voice, and he closes his eyes. Being close to Peter is still nice. It's still family. The only family he's got.

* * *

Derek's blank look in response to his 'Lady Macbeth' comment makes Peter consider moving his hands together, as if to show the act of washing his hands. True, it's not blood that won't get off of Derek's hands like it had been in Macbeth, but come is close enough for the circumstances, and Peter's positive that the shade of them are similar in Derek's mind. Peter doesn't press the issue, though. He's not going to antagonize his nephew after something like _that_ , particularly when the foundation under their feet has palpably shifted.

Issuing the little comment seems like a safe bet, but even Peter knows that it holds weight in his mind. Derek had wanted him around the night before, had said that and _far_ more, and while Peter doesn't know how to acknowledge it, he does know how to joke about it. So, consider him the most surprised when - instead of dragging himself away, shutting down, and leaving the room like Peter expects - Derek looks at him, shoulders all but cut from stone, they're so rigid, and then walks over. Peter's half-expecting a shove, or for Derek to growl at him, but he's not _surprised_ when Derek shuffles in closer and lays back down on the bed with him.

Peter's not expecting the arm that slides behind his head, but he does idly note that it does a good job of nixing the ache in his neck. Derek doesn't pull him close, but Peter appreciates the contact. He lays there, and when Derek finally replies, his voice firm, Peter... isn't sure what to do with the twist of relief that cuts through him like the bite of the sutures from the night before. He doesn't reply immediately, instead nodding idly, but in the end, Peter eases himself in closer to Derek's side, actively moving himself. It feels like a loss of pride, but Derek had made the first move. Peter can be flexible.

"I don't imagine that the pack will be thrilled when they realize I'm here with you. Expect to field a few statements over how I was clearly seeking the Alpha out to kill him and take his powers. But I suppose now we have a map over the possible places he could be. I doubt I need to tell you that no one goes out alone anymore. He was..." Peter trails off, thoughtful. "He seemed to think that it would be fun to rip the pack apart. Because you were inexperienced. I think that was the general idea before I cut his throat and ran."

* * *

Going forward, Derek doesn't know what's going to change between them. Already things have been changing, but isn't that the way life goes? Nothing is stagnant. One decision - be it a mistake or not - and it can cause a ripple effect. Derek's admitted to not wanting anything to happen to Peter. Derek had told Peter that he wanted him around. That was just last night. Today's not even half over and more has been revealed. Derek's learned that Peter is _his_ Beta. For Peter, there's some instinctual acceptance on some level toward Derek being his Alpha. Derek hasn't consciously considered his uncle _his_ responsibility, but now... Now what? It's not like Peter ever wants concern on a good day.

Despite Derek's feeble attempts to imply that nothing incestuous would happen between them, he's been the one seeking Peter out, initiating and pushing. Frankly, he's just glad that Peter isn't bringing it up now. Then again, Peter has a fucked up leg and Derek had been the one to "save" him. Peter's at his mercy here, so no wonder his uncle is behaving (more or less).

But hadn't Peter kissed him back with equal hunger? Peter had reached and touched him, too. Derek's not alone in this. It's not some one-sided thing. Should that give him comfort, though?

Gradually Peter does shift closer and as much as Derek may not want to admit it, the increase in proximity helps him too. It's welcome and something settles inside, his wolf deciding to stop pacing and lie down too as it were. This is his family. This is a pack. It's Peter. Derek repeats the words in his head, trying to hold onto them and normalize what he's doing.

But, naturally, Peter has to speak up and Derek just grunts in response to the comment about the others in the pack - he's not wrong, but he'll deal with them later. The mention of the map is practical, as is the adjustment to the patrols. No one will be going out on their own. His pack... As tough as they pretend to be, being a werewolf, and dealing with violent confrontation? They're still kids in comparison to him and Peter.

It's the last comment of Peter's that has Derek's jaw twinging and his eyebrows drawing in. His inexperience attracted the Alpha, his weakness? Isaac and Peter's injuries wouldn't have happened if not for him... Derek can't even say that he's surprised.

"Good to know," Derek gruffly replies. "You need to rest. I need you being able to actually walk and fight."

* * *

It's likely information that Derek needs to know, both because Peter knows that eventually the pack will congregate here and likely notice that something has changed, and because Derek is the Alpha and needs as much information about this threat as he can get. It's not kind to inform Derek the _why_ behind why the pack has been targeted, but Peter doubts that leaving much out now would benefit either of them. The last thing he wants right now is to fail to give Derek crucial information now that they've established that there is... something remaining between them. Something that maybe hadn't been burned beyond repair by the fire and the years that had followed.

Derek's not pleased by the news; Peter can hear it in his pulse, and in the sudden tension in Derek's body, but Peter doesn't bother trying to take it back or lessen the impact. Derek would sense the lie anyway. So Peter does make himself settle a little more, the solid feeling of Derek's arm more comfortable than he'd like it to be, and the added warmth and calming of his instincts actually pleasant. It feels like it's been an eternity since Peter had felt the burned, ruined creature in his instincts find any sort of peace or comfort.

"Going by this rate, I'll be able to walk again _properly_ soon," Peter says, because Derek's presence is helping, and despite Peter's attempt to return to business, he still feels more relaxed than he should. He's going to blame the orgasm, not the knowledge that he is not quite as _Omega_ as he'd begun to wonder.

Peter sighs, and when he turns his head, it's to look over at Derek almost lazily, a curious look in his eyes. There's a tightness in Derek's expression, something horrendously duty-bound, and Peter thinks he understands.

"Which... I assume you'll take a measure of comfort in. I take it that you intend to keep the rest of the pack at a bit of a distance from this."

* * *

 _Fun_... The Alpha thought it would be _fun_ to fuck with them because of Derek's inexperience as an Alpha. Derek can't even claim that he's all that surprised, but where does that leave him now? Going forward, what does he do with this information? Isaac and Peter have already been hurt. Guilt threatens to crawl up and choke him, but Derek knows that that won't help anything. Being guilty is nothing new for him, but feeling _and_ being guilty, won't fix the problem. Derek needs to _do._ Derek needs to fix this. Derek needs to kill the Alpha because it sure doesn't sound like the guy is going to be reasonable here.

Peter will be able to help him with the location at least - to narrow down areas. They have somewhere to start, it's just difficult to lie here and _not_ run to the preserve right now and attempt to find the damn Alpha and rip out his throat. The desire is growing until he feels _Peter_ settle next to him, reminding Derek that he has a reason to stay and _be_ here. Peter will heal better if he stays and is near. Peter needs him right now, so Derek needs to stay. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, willing himself to calm down, but it's not easy.

Derek feels his uncle's gaze on him but before Derek can promptly tell Peter to stop looking at him and to instead sleep, Peter just gives a remark concerning Derek's intention to keep the rest of the pack at a distance from _this._

"What? Of course I am," Derek mutters. "They don't need to know what I do in my private time, especially considering that they grew up in the _human_ world. They'd think you brainwashed me somehow."

* * *

One, maybe two days and Peter will be back on his feet. It's an eternity for a werewolf, but despite Peter's displeasure with how long it will take, a simple reminder that if Derek _wasn't_ his Alpha, or if he'd just gone home to lick his wounds is all it takes to reframe it in his mind. If he'd just left or he hadn't known, the healing likely would have taken a good few days, if not a week or more. Two days maximum is doable, even if Peter has the unflinching urge to go and track the Alpha down and rip his throat out just on principle. Not that he'd be able to walk there on his own even now. For now, much as Peter dislikes it, resting with Derek makes the most sense, and given the way that Peter feels Derek relax as well, he seems to have come to the same conclusion.

They're both cut from the same cloth in certain ways, after all. The only difference is that Derek likely wants to kill the Alpha to keep the rest of his pack from getting hurt. Peter just wants to do it out of revenge, but it's not a pressing matter. Recover first, then attack. It's much simpler.

But Derek won't want the rest of the pack in it, which prompts Peter to make the assumption. He's expecting Derek to gruffly defend his position, to insist that the rest of the pack shouldn't need to worry about things that are _his_ responsibility. Typical Derek drivel, really. So when Derek immediately replies in a tone that sounds much more hushed than duty-bound, Peter lifts an eyebrow. He looks over, curious, and honestly, it takes Peter more than just a few seconds to realize what the _Hell_ Derek is talking about.

"Human-- brainwashed-- well, I'm not arguing that, but _what_ would that have to do with--" he begins, thoroughly bemused, but it clicks a second later. Peter blinks. Then, likely much to Derek's horror, a self-satisfied smirk touches Peter's lips. He looks beyond amused.

"Ah. Yes, well, tiny, closed human minds _would_ assume a certain level of brainwashing, wouldn't they? They've assumed more of me for less before. But while I appreciate the insight, Derek, I was _actually_ asking if you intended to keep the pack at a distance from the fight you're going to take to the Alpha. But I can see where you got confused. All things considered," he adds, glancing to the dirty washcloth with a measure of amusement.

* * *

No, Derek has no plans on letting anyone - pack or not - know about what's been happening between Peter and him. He may be the Alpha, but Derek can't even fathom standing his ground and defending his choices. Because these _are_ choices. Peter hasn't made him do anything. Derek knows this. He can't refute this.

But it becomes clear rather quickly that he's misunderstood something because Peter shifts to look at him, a typical eyebrow raised in inquiry. And while Peter begins, sounding confused, it's rather obvious when Peter gets ahead of him. That trademark smirk shows up on Peter's face and Derek grimaces in return, already not liking where this is going.

Oh. Peter meant the Alpha and not _them_. Wonderful... Now it looks like Derek's been thinking about them (which he has been, but he doesn't need Peter knowing that). Fuck. Derek promptly closes his eyes and turns away from Peter.

"Shut up and sleep or I'm leaving," Derek bites out, wanting to just move past this already.

He wants to leave but can't because he does need Peter healed up. But Derek has revealed so much to Peter. He's done so much in only a period of what, twelve hours? He needs to be alone and run and work through everything. He can't even think clearly with Peter so close to him because Derek can still remember how Peter's mouth tasted, how his dick felt.

* * *

As it so happens, Derek doesn't wind up leaving. Peter, though he does leave off with a few parting quips until it's clear that Derek isn't about to answer him, eventually does relent and give into the idea of sleep. He is tired, his limbs heavy, his body aching to heal, and as much fun as it is to antagonize Derek, Peter's heart isn't in it while there are parts of his skin still deeply torn. It's a little bit of a turn off, all things considered, and so Peter does relent, does close his eyes, and eventually does wind up falling asleep against Derek's side.

His healing is practically tripled at Derek's side. Neither of them really say anything about it over the next day, even though when Derek checks Peter's back, the surprise is evident in his voice when he indicates that he can cut Peter's stitches out. Peter's leg takes another day to heal, which Peter isn't particularly pleased about. However, after an attempt to stand has his tendons crunching and his leg buckling under him, Peter decides to stay the extra day. Derek had caught him before he'd fallen, but he's a little more clipped for the next few hours as his pride recovers from the mishap.

The pack remain none the wiser, though after a few hours, Peter does tell Derek to text them, or to at least hand Peter Derek's phone so that Peter can do the honors. Eventually the pack are notified to travel in pairs and to keep their senses sharp, but Peter personally finds the messages a little under-played as far as severity is concerned. Derek doesn't want to alarm anyone, and Peter can understand that.


End file.
